


Kintsugi: The Gold

by Fantismal, writtenFIRES



Series: Kintsugi [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood, Brainwashing, Bruising, Codependency, Conditioning, Dark, Dehumanization, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Ireland, Kidnapping, Long-Distance Relationship, Lots of Tea, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Nudity, Objectification, Overprotective Parents, Possessiveness, Psychological Torture, Rape, Recovery, Scars, Severe Abuse, Slow Burn, Smut, Tea, Torture, Trauma, Violence, Whump, and mugs, collaring, communication (both good and bad), garden scenes, graphic smut, long fic is long, no-distance relationship, non-con, non-con public humiliation, off-screen fictional animal abuse, panic/anxiety attacks, pretending we know medical stuff, questionable immigration practices, relationships, revolving title fic, short-distance relationship, tattoos/marks, the internet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 66
Words: 321,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9038201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantismal/pseuds/Fantismal, https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenFIRES/pseuds/writtenFIRES
Summary: Internet fame comes with its costs, but Jack never thought it would include this. When Septiplier is targeted by serial kidnappers, he and Mark have to learn how much they can survive and how much they can recover.This is Jack's story.NOTE: This is not a sequel to Part 1, it is simply a different POV. We recommend reading BOTH stories at the same time for maximum impact.





	1. The Warning

**Author's Note:**

> Please note, this is a work of FICTION. We are both big supporters of Amyplier and Septishuu, however, for the sake of a Septiplier fantasy, we couldn't have the girls with the boys. In this story, Mark has never dated Amy, Jack and Signe broke up for a decent reason, and Tyler and Ethan have an apartment together.

You know how you lie in bed at night and can’t sleep, so you make up stories in your head? You take your favorite characters or favorite actors or favorite entertainers and put them through wild and crazy things? Or you participate in the stories yourself? You know how in those weird minutes between waking and sleeping, your inhibitions go out the window and your mind finds all the darkest corners it possibly can?

Yeah.

This is one of those stories. Written down and split in half, one story for each main character.

This is _not a nice story_. Please scroll back up and look at all those warnings. They are there for reasons. This story has graphic, horrific violence done to some of our favorite entertainers. It has extreme trauma. It even has death of a minor character. There is kidnapping and torture and humiliation and rape, and all kinds of mental mind-fuckery...and there is a long, _long_ road of coming to terms with everything that happened for these characters.

**This is not a nice story.**

But...but we hope it’s a _good_ story. We hope we’re true to the character of the men portrayed. We hope we can redeem ourselves in their recovery. And we hope you who read this and choose to continue on to the next chapter anyway find some dark enjoyment in what we’ve done.

Because we’re suckers for happy endings. And if any story deserves a happy ending, it’s this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writtenFIRES and I have co-written a story, and then re-written it from two different POVs. Please check out the other Kintsugi at the same time. You will notice many things are alike, but many things are also different.
> 
> This is Jack's story.
> 
> (Art by the amazing [Eltrkbarbarella](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Eltrkbarbarella/pseuds/Eltrkbarbarella)! There wouldn't be a story without her.)


	2. Day 0: Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nightmare begins.

It started with Phan. Of course it did. All things shippy started with Phan.

It started at VidCon. Of course it did. What better way was there to hit the world of the internet than at the biggest video convention?

Phil went to the pool, but Dan stayed behind in their shared hotel room, resting a headache. When Phil returned, Dan was gone.

It took ninety days before Dan showed up again, ninety days of the internet imploding on itself, of Phil looking lost, of fans screaming into the void.

Ninety days before Dan was dumped on the doorstep of the flat he shared with Phil, bloody and broken, rushed to the hospital and announced alive and recovering.

Jack had followed the story avidly, as had many of his friends. He'd been at that VidCon, actually been at the pool of the same hotel the night Dan disappeared. He remembered getting grabbed from behind by Phil, the taller man laughing about how Jack's green hair was a clear beacon, and the two of them rough-housing in the water while Mark splashed them from the edge. (He had forgotten his swimsuit, the goober, and was not about to strip to his skivvies to join them in the water with so many fans around.)

That had been the last time Phil had laughed.

Dan was going to be okay. Jack had reached out to Phil, grateful to get an actual response and not just the sugar-coated public answers. Dan had been kidnapped and tortured, with no real awareness of who took him or where he had been held, but he was already healing physically. Mentally and emotionally, he was a mess, but Jack hadn't expected anything less.

It still shook him that it had happened so close. Kidnapping… That was something that happened to other people, not people Jack knew, people he'd met, people he admired.

In some ways, the second one was worse than the first. Troyler, this time, not people Jack knew personally, but the same M.O. Troye Sivan was kidnapped from a convention they both attended. Ninety days later, he turned up in Tyler Oakley’s life again, broken and weak. 

One kidnapping was unfortunate and horrible. Two made it serial.

The third time turned deadly. When Hannah Hart disappeared, she didn't turn up injured. Grace Helbig found her corpse in her driveway, splayed open for the world to see.

The third time was also when the website was discovered. It was simple, a black background, a red word--HARTBIG--and a green check. This was the internet, though. Nobody left it alone. Delving into the history of the site, people discovered that it had changed before. PHAN had started it, the ship name showing up the day before VidCon began, the green check being added the night Dan disappeared. PHAN stayed up until the day before the ComiCon where Troye was kidnapped, when it changed to TROYLER. Troye vanished, and the check appeared.

The ship names appeared _before_ the kidnapping. It was the only clue anyone had. It wasn't enough. Nobody could track down the owner of the site. It was a nebulous, shifting question mark.

It certainly didn't make Jack feel safe. He tucked his feet beneath him, laughing nervously at Wade's pun and hugging one of Mark's pillows against his chest. Mark was stretched across the bed beside him, trying to find a funny video on YouTube that they absolutely had to see. Bob and Mandy were on the couch in the room, making faces at each other. It would have been a normal meet-up at a convention...if there hadn't between an undercurrent of tension in the room. They all had internet ships. Wade and Bob weren't too popular, but Jack knew Septiplier and Septicpie had made some waves, and then Mark...Mark was practically the YouTube bicycle if the internet was to be believed, partnered with everyone from Jack to Rosanna Pansino.

Jack chewed on his lip as he looked over at Mark. None of Mark's ships were _real_. Mark would have told him if he'd gotten a girlfriend or...or a boyfriend. They were practically _best_ friends. Mark might have kept his private life secret from his fans, but he wouldn't have hidden it from _Jack_. Did that make Mark more or less likely to be targeted?

Jack knew his ships were all fake too. Felix was the older, wiser brother when it came to YouTube, not someone Jack would consider even in his most private fantasies (even if they _had_ been playing it up in their videos lately). And Mark…

Septiplier was perhaps the realest of all their potential ships, if Jack was being honest with himself. Mark's voice had stirred questions in Jack's young heart many years ago, and meeting him in person had done nothing to quash those fluttery feelings whenever Mark angled a smile his way. It certainly didn't help that Mark smelled _really fucking good_ , and every time Mark grabbed him in a hug when they met up again, Jack was also met with a lungful of _Mark_ , burrowing deep in his chest and refusing to budge from the vicinity of his heart.

He'd come to terms with his unyielding crush on his best friend years ago. Aside from the occasional flirtatious fan service or Septiplier joke, Mark had shown no interest in Jack. Mark flirted with all his shipmates, though. It didn't mean anything. Jack was just grateful for what he did have with the other man, folded into his circle of closest friends, the others who had known Mark before YouTube. 

“Here, _I'll_ do it.” Mandy leaned over to take the iPad from Mark, interrupting Jack's musings. She tapped out a url. Jack knew exactly which one. “There, see?” Flipping the iPad around, Mandy showed that the name hadn't changed. “No one's a target here.”

Jack laughed in relief, the tension in the room fizzing out the window. No one was going to get kidnapped at PAX West. Maybe it was over, maybe the Ship Sinker, as he'd been dubbed, was satisfied.

“That wasn't what I was trying to look up,” Mark grumbled, but Jack could see the softer line of his back where his own agitation had melted away. “Come on, give it back!”

PAX South, which had successfully wrangled the top gaming YouTubers into Texas for once, felt like deja vu, only this time, Jack was tucked against Felix's pillows. The Swede’s unlocked laptop sat on the bed beside him as Felix and Ken played monkey on the middle with Mark and a balloon, swatting him on the head and making his hair stick up from the static. P.J. was giggling and taunting, until Mark growled and tackled him around the waist, crashing them both onto the couch where Michael was sprawled, all long limbs and watching camera.

Trying to distract himself, Jack picked up the laptop. Brad started snickering as he kicked Mark and off his fellow Pewdiepie-wrangler. “Aww, what, you nervous you might be a target, Jackie?”

“Pff, as if!” Jack snorted. “Looking to see it saying Kickiplier!”

“He _wishes_ he could get a piece of dis ass,” Mark chirped from the floor.

“Oh please, everyone knows it's gonna be BroKen.” Ken walloped Mark across the head again with the balloon. 

Jack choked on his laughter as the red ship name loaded, swallowing the wrong way and coughing weakly on his own spit. That wasn't HARTBIG. The name had changed.

“Jack?” Felix looked serious as he reached a hand toward Jack, a question on his face. “Jack, who is it?”

Still coughing, Jack could only turn the laptop around to show the otherwise-quiet room. There, in big red letters, across the black page, was the new target.

**SEPTIPLIER**

“This is bullshit!” Mark shoved P.J. off him, jumping to his feet. “That can't be...it's not...we're not even a real ship!”

“Well, technically,” Ken began, but Mark snatched the balloon from him and swatted him in the face.

“You know what I mean! We're not, Jack and I aren't…!”

“You think any of them were?” Jack asked quietly. Oh, sure, everyone wondered about Phan, but the other two were just as fictional as Septiplier.

“I'm calling Revelmode,” Felix said quietly, pulling out his mobile. “Someone else get the front desk, get some security up here.”

“Oh, come _on_!” Mark protested. “We're not going to be kidnapped from a hotel room!”

“Dan was,” P.J. pointed out as Brad went for the room phone.

Mark shut his mouth, unable to deny it. He looked up, catching Jack's eye. “You...you don't wander off with sketchy strangers, okay?” He pointed a finger firmly at Jack.

Jack smiled weakly back. “As long as you don't go anywhere on your own. Deal?”

“Deal.”

PAX had been anticipating this. The Ship Sinker hadn't been caught. Every major convention was a target. As soon as the name changed on the website, extra security was brought in, surrounding Mark and Jack. They laughed it off to their fans, pointing out their personal guards joining them for the panels, encouraging their fans to give the guards high-fives or hugs at the signings.

Jack hated it. He hated having a 6’3" shadow following him to the men's room or glaring at fans who wanted to give him a hug. This convention was supposed to be about _them,_ for _them_ , not so Jack could have yet another barrier between them.

It helped that Mark was just as upset, pulling faces at his own muscular protection, demanding space when he went to the bathroom, and apologizing to every fan who got blocked by the guard.

It was better than getting kidnapped, Jack figured, but not by much.

By the end of the first day, they were all exhausted, piling into a single booth at the hotel's karaoke bar, practically sitting in each other's laps. Mark was pressed against Jack's side, the phone in his pocket digging into Jack's thigh. Jack's arm was resting on Mark's leg, trying to be casual. He didn't have any other place to put it. He was squished against Bob on his other side, with barely six inches between them to fit his own pelvis into.

“To day one without sinking Septiplier!” Ken had cheered, and they all raised their glasses, clinking them together and laughing.

Several drinks into the night, Mark's head flopped onto Jack's shoulder. His eyes were barely open, and he fingered the stem of his empty mocktail glass distractedly. The alcohol had been helping Jack shake off the stress of the day, and fetching the group their drinks had finally been an enjoyable reason to have bodyguards. Mark had stuck to virgin drinks, but clearly the cola and sugar weren't giving him the same relaxation they were doing for Jack.

“Someone looks tired…” Jack lifted his arm, ruffling Mark's hair before letting his arm settle around Mark's shoulders. There was nothing weird about that anymore. Felix was sitting in Ken's lap. P.J. was practically asleep with his head pillowed on Wade's chest. Brad and Michael were crooning a love song together into the karaoke machine.

Mark huffed, snuggling against Jack's side. He looked adorably sleepy. Jack just wanted to kiss his cheek. He settled for taking a drink of his Jack and Coke instead. “Sleep's f’r the weak…”

Jack chuckled, patting Mark's shoulder. “It's okay to be weak every now and then, Markimoo.”

“‘m no’ weak…fite meh...”

Jack smiled, letting his eyes wander over his best friend while Mark was too tired to notice. His glasses were being smushed crooked on his nose by Jack's chest, lips stained red from the cherry drink he'd ordered earlier. His hair was a tousled mess, and he was warm and comforting tucked beneath Jack's arm. _Septiplier away…_ Jack wished they could stay like this forever.

Mark really did seem to be falling asleep on him, though, so Jack flagged the attention of Mark's security guard. “Hey! Can you get him back to his room?” Tomorrow was going to be another busy, stressful day, and Mark would be an unbearable ball of complaints if he woke up with a stiff back from sleeping sideways in a booth all night.

The guard, Mick? Mike? nodded and helped Jack get Mark out from the crowded booth. “I'll make sure he gets to bed safely,” he assured Jack, his voice a reassuring rumble. “Room 318, right, kid? Got your key?”

“G’t it!” Mark chirped, still half-asleep, fumbling near his crotch to fish his key card out of his pocket. Jack giggled into his drink, waving good-bye as Mark got escorted away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be at least one new Kintsugi chapter every M/W/F through May.
> 
> However, the two stories will not always BOTH get a new chapter. If Jack doesn't update, check on Mark's, and if Mark doesn't update, look here.


	3. Day 1: Horror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can't wake up.

The next morning, Jack was still yawning as he stumbled into the group waiting in the hall. P.J. was groaning, and Ken was banging his fist against Mark's door. “Open up, ya big pussy!”

Jack frowned as Mark's door remained closed and locked, not even the sound of Mark shuffling around coming from within. He yawned again, scratching his fingers through his still-damp hair, and tugged his phone out of his pocket. It was fairly useless in the States, but it could connect to the hotel's Wi-Fi and work, so Jack shot Mark a quick message. _You're keeping us all from breakfast!_

The guard assigned to Jack today was standing off to the side, talking quietly with the guard who had been waiting for Mark. Jack eyed their friends and felt a cold finger run down his spine. He looked at his phone again, then opened the browser and tapped in a familiar url.

 **SEPTIPLIER** read the red letters still.

This time, they were followed by a green check.

“Oh god…” Jack stared at that innocuous green symbol, horror sapping his appetite and his trust in the stability of his knees.

“Hmm?” Bob looked over, and then he gasped. “ _Jesus Christ!_ Mark!”

By the time the hotel staff got Mark's door open, it was already too late. Jack sat in the hall, staring dully at the open door and the police swarming in and out. Mark's room was practically undisturbed. His phone was plugged into his charger by the bed, sitting next to his glasses. The clothes he'd been wearing the day before were tossed near his suitcase. His bedsheets were rumpled from use but didn't seem to indicate a fight.

And Mark was gone.

“Look on the bright side?” Jack's guard tried to suggest. “At least it wasn't you?”

“I'd rather it was,” Jack whispered, burying his face in his legs.

 _Gone._ Mark was gone. The Ship Sinker had claimed another victim, and Jack couldn't get his insides to feel normal. His lungs ached with every breath, and his stomach was twisted up in knots. His heart seemed to stutter and jump within his chest. There was a bone-deep _ache_ inside him, and Jack wanted to cry but his eyes refused to fill with tears. Just last night, Mark had been pressed against his side. If only Jack had let him fall asleep like that. If only they'd stumbled back to their rooms together. If only one of them had clung to the other, and they hadn't gone to bed alone.

“Jack?” Felix was touching Jack's shoulder, crouched beside him. “Hey, come on. They want to talk to us downstairs.”

Jack nodded, letting Felix pull him to his feet. A pair of armed guards flanked the YouTubers as they made their way down to a conference room the police were using as their incident room.

They asked too many questions. They didn’t get enough answers. Jack didn’t remember much of the rest of the day. He didn’t remember much of the rest of the convention. He floated through the halls, never alone, moving robotically. Fans came up to him, he hugged, talked, took pictures.

Mark wasn’t there.

Everyone knew it.

The website, that thrice-damned website, was splashed across the internet. So many questions at their panels and signings yesterday had been about the target painted across their backs. _What are you going to do? Are you scared? Who do you think will get kidnapped?_

They had laughed yesterday, laughed and joked and dicked around with their guards. Fat load of good extra security had done them! Mark had been all but tucked into bed by a beefy man with a gun, and he was still whisked away in the middle of the night.

Jack wanted to scream. He didn’t. He forced smiles and listened to words he couldn’t understand and let Felix or Wade or Bob lead him around the convention. How could _they_ be functioning? Mark was _gone_!

Felix insisted on Jack sharing his room for the rest of the convention. Jack didn’t understand why at first: the Ship Sinker only ever took one half of the ship. If he’d nabbed Mark, Jack was safe. It wasn’t until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at a shirt in his hand, that he realized the real reason. He could barely function. Felix, without so much as a scathing comment or pitying look, walked Jack through getting ready for bed, snapping him out of his daze whenever Jack’s mind wandered away and tucking him into bed. “Try to sleep,” Felix said quietly. “One day down.”

Eighty-nine to go.


	4. Day 4: Acknowledgment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack always vlogs when he returns from a convention.

Really, it was a miracle Jack made it back to Ireland in one piece. Felix was to thank for that again. He had changed his plane ticket to be on Jack’s flight, then he stole Jack’s phone at the airport and called Jack’s sister. She drove in to take Jack home, and Felix took another flight back to Brighton.

Jack sat in his recording room, staring blankly at his camera. He always made a vlog after conventions, always. His fans would be expecting it.

It was going to be one of his most-watched vlogs. Jack didn’t even need to _make_ the video to know that. Markiplier’s kidnapping had reverberated around the internet even more severely than Dan’s had precisely because it _wasn’t_ the first. And the last one had been deadly. Jack pressed his hands to his eyes, trying to block out words like _escalation of violence_ and _serial killer_. Mark was _not_ in the hands of a serial killer! The Ship Sinker had only killed once. He was a serial _kidnapper_ , not a serial _killer._

Everyone would want to hear from the other half of Septiplier. If Jack _didn’t_ address the kidnapping...if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have anything to talk about. Jack groaned, pressing his hands against his eyes harder. He still didn’t have any tears. He wished he could, wished he could cry for Mark...but at the same time, he felt like if he cried, he’d given up and admitted that Mark was as good as dead.

Jack had never let sickness come in the way of his videos, and heartsickness was no exception. He took a deep breath, reaching for his mouse and getting things set up, syncing all of his different inputs, and then…

“Top o’ the mornin’ to ya, laddies. My name is Jacksepticeye, and I’m back from PAX South.”

Eugh, what a horrible start. Jack couldn’t even pretend to muster up the enthusiasm his intro deserved. He tried a couple more times but then gave up. There would be no forcing good cheer. Not for this video.

“As many of you have heard by now...it was an absolute disaster.” Jack shoved his hand through his hair, glancing above his camera at his window. Disaster was such an understatement. “The...the Ship Sinker attacked. Targeted Septiplier. Even though it’s not a real ship, he still…” Jack looked back at his camera, wondering if he should hide his anguish, and then decided no, he’d let it show. Mark was his _best friend_. “Since I’m still here, it should be pretty obvious what happened. He took Mark. Markiplier. The first night.”

God. Jack was glad he didn’t have a job where he had to tell people bad news. It was bad enough sharing bad news that probably everyone watching already knew. A serial kidnapper targeting internet personalities? Even his parents knew what was going on by the time he’d returned home.

“I’m really sorry, guys. Any of you who came all the way out there to see me... I was such a fucking mess the whole trip. I’m sorry. I feel like I really let you guys down. That first day, Mark and I were both freaked out, but we kept telling each other it wasn’t really gonna happen, we would be safe, and PAX beefed up our security and everything, and then…” Jack reached up, grasping toward his camera and let his hand drop. “And then it _did_ happen.” He closed his eyes, swearing under his breath. “ _Fuck_. Okay. This is gonna have to be one big take, because I don’t think I can say any of it again.” Jack scrubbed his face with his hands and looked up, focusing on the black lens. “We were gonna go out for breakfast, a group of us, but Mark wasn’t answering his door. Ken was pounding on it, and I...I checked the website. You know the one. And there was that fucking green check there and I knew, I just... I _knew_. I don’t know who called the police. I think maybe Bob? But there were police everywhere, and that’s why all those early morning panels got canceled, because we were all being questioned about everything we could remember from the night before. Mark had gone to bed early because he was tired, but we made sure security escorted him back to his room. I stayed up with the guys. That was it. Mark...Mark’s _gone._ ” 

Jack’s voice cracked, and he managed to hold the camera’s gaze for a few beats longer before he collapsed, sinking his head into his hands and taking a shaky breath. This bit was going to get cut out. He needed to recover his composure before he could begin again. 

In the end, it took him three hours to get ten minutes of useable footage. Jack pulled it up to edit immediately, not wanting to let the weekend settle down and then dredge it up again later. As long as he was already powering through his horror over the weekend, he needed to continue.

Jack was exhausted by the time he collapsed into his bed, not even bothering to get changed. Four days down.

Eighty-six to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	5. Day 12: The First Photos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been over a week, and Jack gets a glimpse of his missing friend.

It took a week before Jack felt like things were anything near normal, a week of forcing content and pretending he was okay. It got easier every day, even though his fans kept telling him to take it easy, they'd understand a hiatus.

What would Jack _do_ for a hiatus? Sit around and think about how much trouble Mark was in? It wasn't like he could play Scooby Doo and track down the bad guys. Mark had been kidnapped from Texas. That was five thousand plus miles away. The kidnappers wouldn't be so considerate as to keep Mark hostage in Athlone so Jack could come to his rescue.

No, a hiatus was the worst thing Jack could do right now. Keeping busy, that was key. He cranked out videos, finding it easier and easier to smile again. He scoured Tumblr and Twitter and YouTube, responding to hundreds of comments every day. His life was able to return to a semblance of normal. Mark was a huge part of Jack's world, but not a huge part of his daily life. They didn't even chat every day. It was fine. Everything was fine.

When the ache in Jack's chest grew too strong to ignore, when it refused to be buried under false assurances that the world was as bright and positive as before, Jack went to Tumblr and searched the Markiplier tag. He smiled through the pain at the overwhelming outpouring of love Mark's fans had for the missing creator, leaving likes on every heart wrenching plea for Mark's safe return, every furious rant over the state of the world where good men like Mark could be snatched from their hotel rooms.

But then Jack refreshed his dash and froze. The first post was a photo, a picture of Mark. That wasn't unusual on Mark's tag, but the photo itself...Jack was pressing his fingers against his computer screen, taking one shaky breath after another.

**OMG GUYS HE’S ALIVE!**

_Was_ he, though? Jack ran his finger along the image of Mark's crumpled body, his hungry eyes drinking in every bruise, every smudged discoloration that might be blood on his bare skin. This was just a photo. It couldn't show life, only a frozen moment.

Mark was nearly naked, dressed only in pink underwear. It might have been considered overkill, a tasteless cosplay, but Jack knew Mark did, in fact, own pink boxer briefs. Not only did he own them, but he wore them too. Jack had discovered that quite by accident during his first stay with Mark. He hadn't fully believed the boys’ assertions that in their house, clothing was more of a suggestion, really. It had taken all of a day before Matt, Ryan, and Mark were comfortable enough with his presence to resume their normally-pantsless lives. It took a couple extra days before Jack stopped bothering with his own jeans if they weren't leaving the house.

No amount of cosplay skill would be able to pull off that dye job either. Jack remembered the two-tone shading of Mark's hair flopped against his arm, knew exactly how much was red and how much was natural. Mark had stripped out of his clothes before he was taken. He had left his glasses on the nightstand. Everything about this picture was possible, plausible. Jack hated it. Where had it come from?

The tags revealed the whole story, a collection of broken sentence fragments.

#it's from the shipper site, #check the source code, #the url is there, #it's really him!

Jack jammed his hand on ctrl+t so fast, opening a new tab and typing in the memorized url. Right-click on the page, on that mocking red SEPTIPLIER, and view page source. Jack was barely remembering to breathe as he skimmed the lines of code...There. There? That had to be it. Jack copied the url, held his breath, and posted it into the address bar.

There were two thumbnails on the new page that loaded, and a hit counter. It said 52.

This felt like something from Welcome to the Game. Jack worried his lip between his teeth before clicking on the first thumbnail. _I'm not on the deep web. You need a special browser for that...right?_

The first picture was the same one from Tumblr: Mark lying in a crumpled heap on a bloodstained floor. Jack shivered. Somehow, it was even creepier on this otherwise empty website, without Tumblr's familiar blue background wrapped around it.

Jack didn't want to look for long. Mark had a huge bruise across his face. He was going to be stiff and sore when he woke up from the position alone, never mind his injuries. Jack's eyes prickled, but he still couldn't cry.

 _Mark's not dead._ Jack clicked out of the thumbnail. The hit counter now read 68. He frowned, wondering how many people were finding this site from Tumblr. Jack wanted to shout at them to stop, to leave Mark some privacy. Somehow, he doubted this would be the worst of the pictures.

Jack hovered his mouse over the second thumbnail. He couldn't make out much from the small size, but it looked like a different angle. _Leave Mark his privacy,_ whispered Jack's conscience.

 _I need to know if he's alive._ Jack bit his lip hard enough to taste blood and clicked.

A close-up of Mark’s face, streaked with blood, filled Jack’s screen. Jack jumped back from his computer, his chair sliding backwards, both hands clamped over his mouth. _Oh god, oh god, Mark, oh god…_ Jack couldn’t look away, his eyes stuck to the ghastly scene.

Everything was not fine. Jack was not able to convince his stomach that everything was fine. He swallowed bile, his mouth watering slightly in anticipation of vomit. _Rubbish bin!_

Jack shakily wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, straightening up again. He had his bin clamped between his knees, just in case he would need it again. Taking a deep breath, Jack risked another glance at his computer screen. The picture was still there. It was still as horrifying as before...but at least some of the shock had faded.

 _I’m puking in my own room, while Mark’s the one who got kicked in the face! Stop being such a wuss, Jackaboy!_ Jack pushed the bin aside and grabbed the edge of his desk, wheeling his chair back in. Was there anything in that picture that gave a clue to where Mark was, to what had happened to him? He didn’t look pained, which was...good? Jack reached out, brushing his fingers over the unbruised side of Mark’s face. At least he wasn’t feeling any of this. Yet.

Mark was bleeding, so that meant…that meant he was alive in the first picture, at least, and probably still in this one. His scalp was going to burn something horrible when he came around. Jack wanted to rip that gloved hand away from Mark. He knew Mark’s dyed hair was exceptionally fragile from too many colors too quickly. How much had his head recovered? Enough to keep him from losing a handful? Jack hoped so. Mark was incredibly vain about his hair. Dying it pink hadn’t toned down his love for it. Jack wasn’t sure what Mark would be more hurt by, a kick to the face or a bald patch.

_The kick to the face, nimrod. Hair grows back._

Jack swallowed against another rush of nausea, clicking out of the picture and going back to the thumbnails. The hit counter read 89 now.

There were three thumbnails.

Jack stared at the new box, not sure he wanted to look. _Let Mark have his privacy_ warred with _I need to know._ Besides, it was _him_. Jack. He was one of Mark’s best friends. Mark told him just about everything. They didn’t have secrets.

They didn’t have _many_ secrets, Jack amended, guiltily remembering how nice Mark had felt snuggling into his side, and how Jack had pushed him away, pushed him into this _hell_ rather than risk indulging his crush and ruining their friendship. Jack had never told Mark that Septiplier was a little more real to him than it was to Mark. Maybe if he had, maybe…

Maybe _what_? Septiplier being a thing at a _ll_ was why Mark was in this nightmare in the first place. Jack bit the inside of his cheek and clicked the third thumbnail.

 _That’s… a really beautiful shot._ Mark almost looked peaceful, despite the blood and bruising, his nose swollen and dark purple. His position, the framing...Jack’s A/V mind picked apart the mechanics of the shot in lieu of breaking down over yet another shot of Mark in pain. There wasn’t much zoom being used. The camera was…

Jack’s brain stuttered. The camera was right over Mark’s belly. Yeah, the shot _could_ have been gotten by stretching your arms over your model, but to get the angle that spot-on, that _perfect_ , it was far more likely that the photographer was between Mark’s legs or straddling his hips. And Mark was wearing practically nothing, at this man’s mercy…

 _Dan was tortured,_ Phil had told him. _He’ll heal, physically, but his mind and heart are gonna need a lot more time…_

His heart. Jack’s eyes went wide. The positioning, the pose, the _blood_...this was all evocative of a rape. If Mark had been a woman… _Like Hannah Hart?_ his mind suggested.

Jack closed the browser, staring blankly at his desktop. There was more to that torture than just physical beatings. Mark was...Mark was in a _lot_ of trouble.

And that bastard was taking pictures.

Jack felt the bile rise in the back of his throat again, looking toward the calendar he had made and hung on his wall.

Twelve days down.

Seventy-eight to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	6. Day 15: Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark wakes up in that room, and Jack bears witness.

It took three days before Jack could bear to go back to the Ship Sinker website, three days of the quality of his content noticeably flagging, his video comments starting to express concern. Jack couldn’t get Mark’s bruised and bloody face out of his head. Games he had once found funny and enjoyable were now macabre statements on how sick the world was. He had tried playing Happy Wheels, just for his own stress relief, and had nearly lost it the first time Bobby’s head popped off. His game choices were trending toward little flash games and coarse humor, nothing with blood or injuries. Racing games were usually a good choice. Clustertruck.

After three days, Jack couldn’t bear it anymore. He needed to know. He _needed_ to know. He was never going to get any sleep if his mind kept torturing him with thoughts of what Mark was going through. Maybe if he just went back, checked in on Mark, he’d be able to push it out of his head.

Ha. Jack knew even as he typed in the familiar url that checking the pictures for an update would only make things worse. He wasn’t about to see Mark bandaged up and wearing a fluffy robe and cuddling with Chica. If there was an update, it was going to be even more gruesome than the first three pictures.

Jack still had to _know_.

The hit counter was in the thousands. There were over a dozen thumbnails now. Some of them even had a white play button on top of them. Jack stared at the rows of photos and video clips, his hands shaking before he even clicked on the first video. He had to know.

Watching Mark wake up in that room was heartbreaking. Jack hugged his arms tight around his chest, staring at the twelve-second loop of video footage. The pain and fear were obvious on his expressive face. Jack’s own head ached in sympathy as the kidnapper dug his heel into Mark’s bruises. This was old footage, probably taken the day after Mark was kidnapped. It has been a fortnight. The rest of the thumbnails were only going to be worse.

Jack’s eyes were burning with unshed tears as he reached for his mouse, clicking out of the video and into the next picture. He dug his fingers into his side, mouth trembling with every new horror inflicted upon Mark. _Why did it have to be him?_ Jack’s bodyguard had told him to look on the bright side, that at least it was Mark kidnapped and not Jack. That first day, Jack had wished their roles had been reversed. Now…?

Jack folded his arms on his desk, sinking his head into the dark cradle, his shoulders shaking from the force of his dry sobs. Jack didn’t want to get hurt. He could only imagine the horror Mark had to be feeling in that padded room, fresh and old blood splattered across the walls, staining the floors, no respite for the agony his body had to be in. It was a nightmare made real, thrown onto the internet for all the world to see. Jack didn’t _ever_ want to be in that position...but if he were given the choice? If the Ship Sinker approached him, right now, and offered to trade Mark’s freedom for Jack’s?

He’d accept. Of course he would. Even if it meant going into that room. Being beaten, kicked, tortured. Getting water thrown on him to wake him up, not even enough to sluice off the blood staining his skin. Getting pissed on. Jack would still take it, if it meant getting Mark out of there.

Because Mark was better than him. Mark was stronger, smarter, funnier. Mark had a bigger heart and bigger community. More people were mourning Mark than would ever mourn Jack. More people tolerated Mark, loved him, accepted him as a YouTube content creator. He wasn’t just the annoying loud yelling guy. Mark had a purpose and a drive. He routinely made huge charitable pushes and tried to reach out to his fans whenever he could. Mark was _better_ than Jack, in every way, and Jack wished, _wished_ , with all his heart, that Mark hadn’t been the one taken.

“Don’t kill him,” Jack whispered, looking up again at the last picture of Mark, still enlarged on his screen. Mark was crying. The tears were obvious, cutting through the blood on his face. “Please don’t kill him. Give him back to us. To me.”

It had only been fifteen days.

Seventy-five to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	7. Day 19: Birthday Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Jack's 27th birthday, and Mark still manages to give him a present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of an explanation: though writtenFIRES and I (Fantismal) both wrote this story together, we also both took full credit for one POV. She will be replying to comments on Clay, and I will be handling Gold. We are both reading every single comment, though, and giggling to each other about how well this story is being received.
> 
> THANK YOU.

To Jack, his birthday was just another day. His family all texted him their best wishes, and he Skyped with his brother's kids, but it wasn't something he really celebrated. It wasn't as fun to celebrate it alone.

His Twitter was exploding with birthday greetings, and Jack replied to as many as he could manage, thanking his friends and community over and over again. There was one name missing from his notifications, one name that had been silent for weeks now. _Mark_.

Jack had taken to checking the Ship Sinker website every day (sometimes multiple times a day, until he realized the new photos were triggered by the hit counter rising). His heart plummeted to dissolve in his stomach with every new picture or video of Mark's torture. He was naked in that room now, his body bruised and bloody, always on display for the hungry eyes of the internet. With every new humiliating indignity Mark suffered through, Jack's stomach knotted itself tighter. He wished he could reach through the screen and gather Mark into his arms, hold him safe from the kidnappers and the world.

It felt like a nightmare, but Jack woke up every morning to the same truth. It _felt_ like a nightmare...but it was reality. Mark was systematically being destroyed. How could he ever come back from this? How could he grin into his camera again, laugh with an audience who had all seen his dick half-hard in a black-gloved hand while his tears mixed with the blood on his face over swollen bruises?

Jack had tried to not look. He really, really had. When he'd open a new picture, he'd cover Mark's groin with his hand, try to focus on his face, his eyes, trying to see if Mark had given up hope or if he was still fighting to be strong in that hellhole. He had _tried_ not to look, but when his hands quickly became more occupied grabbing a bin for him to vomit into...it was hard not to accidentally glimpse more of his friend than Mark would have _ever_ shared with him.

Jack was trying not to think about those pictures now, and certainly not about the most recent video. It was his birthday, dammit, and he was going to go out to dinner, disconnecting himself from the internet for an evening. He pulled his door open and stepped outside, nearly slipping as his foot fell on a padded envelope instead of the concrete step he was expecting. After a less than graceful recovery, Jack picked it up.

 _Sean McLoughlin_ was written across the middle of the envelope. No address. Someone had placed this in front of his door. _Happy Birthday Jack!_ was scrawled across the side, written in the same clumsy handwriting of someone who didn't understand how to hold a pen. Brownish speckles decorated the front. What really stopped Jack's heart, though, was the name printed in the upper left corner, where a return address should go.

_Mark Fischbach._

That wasn't Mark's handwriting. He didn't have the neatest writing, but Mark's scrawl was more the slop of a brain racing faster than a hand could keep up with and not this childish, shaky text. Still, it was Mark's name, and it was at Jack's flat.

Jack stepped back inside and closed the door. It was too cold to stay on the front step, staring at an envelope. He shook it, hearing papers slide around inside. It didn't feel like there was anything physical in there, like a finger or an ear. _That only happens in movies,_ Jack tried to convince himself, but his brain was prone to self-sabotage. _Just like minor celebrities getting kidnapped and tortured?_

Just to be safe, Jack moved into the kitchen. He pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and set the envelope on the counter. Eying it warily, he took a swig directly from the bottle. This was not going to be fun.

It took half the bottle before Jack was feeling suitably fortified. Still, his hands shook as he picked up the envelope and slid a finger beneath the flap to tear it open. Jack took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and upended the envelope, hearing its contents hit the counter. _Please don't be body parts. Please don't be body parts…_

They weren't. Jack cracked one eye open to check, then deflated with a sob. They weren't _body_ parts. They were photos, photos of Mark, scraps of his pink underwear that had been cut away from him in that one video, a dusting of red and black hairs.

Jack shouldn't look. He _knew_ he shouldn't look. That human need to watch a trainwreck moved his hands and he mechanically picked up the pictures. _Mark_. Mark, in HD quality, every photo lovingly framed to show him off the best. These were so much worse than the pictures on the site, which were a little grainy and fuzzed with low quality. Jack could have assumed from those that the photographer was a beginner.

Not so. They were low-quality on purpose. These pictures proved it. Jack could see every tear on Mark's skin, and every tear _in_ it. Mark was tied down, his legs spread wide, his body on display for Jack's burning eyes. He was on his knees in another picture, begging at the camera, at _Jack_ , pure misery in his glassy eyes. Here, Mark was on all fours, head down, ass up, a dirty fantasy of Jack's ripped from his head and made real, but bastardized with blood and bruises and a complete lack of consent. The pictures went on and on, mostly lewd and sexual. Jack's stomach roiled. He took a hearty drink from his bottle in an attempt to settle it and pushed on.

The picture with one of the kidnappers actually startled Jack. Up until that point, this entire stack of photos had been just Mark, obviously posed against his will, but otherwise alone. The second-to-last picture featured one of Mark's torturers, calmly snapping one of Mark's fingers. Even if the unnatural bend didn't give it away, the scream of anguish on Mark's face, captured with perfect photographic timing, revealed the breaking bone.

Jack mutely pushed that picture aside to look at the last one. It was almost innocent compared to the rest. Mark was still naked and bleeding, but he wasn't having his body flaunted sexually for Jack. He was curled up, his left arm twisted and tied behind his back, a pen held in his swollen right hand as he wrote on an envelope, blood and tears dripping from his face to spatter around the words. _Happy Birthday Jack!_

An envelope. _This_ envelope. Jack turned his head mechanically to look at the envelope, stretching out one hand to touch the words. _Mark_ wrote that. Bled on it. Cried on it. Mark had held this...recently. Jack's eyes went wide. Mark didn't have a broken finger in any of the pictures on the website. They were outdated. In the past. Mark had already suffered so much more than they showed.

Jack's eyes _burned_ , and his throat was tight, but he couldn't cry. He _wanted_ to, but his body refused to let him. Jack brushed his fingers against the last photo of Mark, a dry sob ripping itself out of his throat. He pushed, sliding the photo away.

There was a letter beneath, typed, not written in Mark's broken hand.

_Hope you enjoy your presents! Sorry we couldn't let you have your toy for your special day, but don't worry. You'll have him back once we're done making him perfect for you._

_Happy birthday Jacksepticeye!_

Jack grabbed his bottle and downed the rest, squeezing his eyes shut as tight as possible, wishing those words weren't seared into his brain already. _No. God no. Please._

There was no more alcohol left in the bottle. Jack flung it away from him, flinching as it shattered against the wall. He stood there for another few minutes, panting shallowly, and then he pulled out his phone to call the police.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!
> 
> (And feel free to stalk our Tumblrs too. I am Fantismal there, and writtenFIRES is lowat-golden-tower)


	8. Day 53: Septiplier Comments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is trying to keep on top of his community.

“And now, Septiplier comments, with Jacksepticeye.”

Jack had resisted this for the longest time, but the comments were becoming overwhelming, sorted to the top of all his videos, swamping his Twitter and Tumblr and, quite frankly, becoming very poisonous. Shying from controversy had never been Jack's style. He needed to confront this.

“So, uh, this is gonna be a little different than my usual ‘reading your comments’ videos,” Jack informed his camera, looking into its unfeeling black lens. “I...didn't want to talk about the whole Ship Sinker, Septiplier thing, but you guys really care, and I just...I don't want you to think I don't. So I tried to gather as many different comments as I could, compiling them into similar questions, and I'm going to address them all here, and then...” Jack felt his voice hitch, and he took a deep breath. “And then I don't really want to talk about it again. Not because I don't _care_ , but because...I hope you'll understand why by the end of this video. So. ‘JACK! Did you know Mark's been kidnapped!?’"

Jack looked flatly at his camera. “Yes. Yes I did know. I was there when we discovered it. ‘Have you seen the Ship Sinker's website?’ Again, yes. I've seen it, I've seen some,” _all,_ “of the pictures, I know what's going on…”

Jack's breath hitched again and he looked off to the side, struggling his composure back. “Okay, look. That website is _sick_ , and not the good, awesome kind of sick. It's the twisted, perverted, _disgusting_ sort of sick. I know you guys all care for Mark. I know that's why you've been bombarding me with all these comments. But that website…” Jack shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “If you know how to get to the website, please don't. If you see pictures or video from it, don't share them. Please. I know we're all worried about Mark, and the bad news from the website is better than no news at all...But _please_. Don't share it. Don't visit. Don't check in on him, don't repost pictures, even if you censor them first. Mark is being _tortured_. This isn't a joke, isn't a game, a crazy challenge he's doing to entertain us. Mark is being…” Jack's voice caught, and he coughed, clearing his throat and trying again. “They're trying to break Mark down, show him at his worst. They're trying to ruin his reputation and his life. If you...If you look at those pictures, either on his website or shared somewhere else, you're contributing to that. You're helping to _hurt_ him. If you love him, if you like him, if he had ever made you smile or laugh or even just be a little entertained...please don't share his pain. Don't show it off. Don't draw attention to it. Don't watch it, gawk at it, talk about it...just don't. Please.”

Jack raked his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes. “I know we're all scared that he's going to be killed. I know we all want to make sure he's still alive. But we're all going to know in thirty-seven more days. He's going to be released in thirty-seven days, and...and I'll find him. Alive or dead, I'll find him, and I'll let you know. Until then...Please don't look at him. Don't watch him suffer. For his sake. Let him at least have that small measure of privacy.”

Would the plea work? Maybe. It would probably turn some people off from looking at the pictures, but it just as easily could let new people know that the pictures existed. Jack sighed, pulling up the next comment he'd chosen.

“‘Jack, how can you be so cheerful? I thought Mark was your friend!’”

How could people even _ask_ Jack that? But he supposed that just meant he was doing a great job masking his pain. Jack looked straight into the camera, letting his heartbreak show, not trying to hide it.

“Short answer: I'm not. I'm not cheerful. I'm not happy. I feel like I haven't really laughed since that night. Long answer…” Jack sighed.

“The long answer is that I have to be. YouTube, these videos, this is my job. I have to keep it up, even when I'm not feeling it. Am I faking it?” Jack bit his lip, looked off-camera, then forced his gaze back to the lens. “Yeah. Kinda. Okay, but just hear me out. This kinda goes into the next comment: ‘Take a hiatus! You don't need to force out content for us!’"

Deep, slow breaths, Jack. Stay calm.

“What would I do if I took a hiatus? I'd sit around and think about Mark trapped in that room and what that guy is doing to him. I'd go crazy. YouTube is my life. It's my passion, my escape, my love. When I sit here and put the hat on and turn the camera on...I'm not really _Jack_. I'm Jacksepticeye, a bigger, brighter version of me. And that me, he's...He _is_ cheerful. And positive. And when I'm him, I can pretend, if only for a couple hours, that my best friend isn't locked in a nightmare of torment. Markiplier doesn't actually show up on most of my YouTube stuff. It's easier to set that part of my life aside when I'm working, to focus on the game and the video and to be thinking about a thousand little things like lighting and angles and what I'm saying...or more accurately, smacking myself in the face for _not_ thinking about what I'm saying…” Jack grimaced, the joke falling flat. He'd leave it in. “Working on YouTube is the one thing that lets me _not_ think about what's happening to Mark. Yes, he's my best friend. Yes, I'm absolutely _gutted_ whenever one of those pictures shows up on my dash,” _whenever I check for updates on that website,_ “but with my videos, I can pretend things are normal. I can pretend my life isn't any different, that Mark's doing the same thing I am on the other side of the world, making his content, playing with Chica, and just being a doofy goober instead of…”

Jack's voice hitched and he looked away, biting the inside if his lips, breathing heavily. This was definitely _not_ a normal comments video. “Sorry. It's just...It's hard. It is so fucking hard, and I'm not happy, I'm not cheerful, but...I'm surviving. And so are you. Mark's channel's already gone silent, and I can't...I can't go quiet on you too. If I can pretend for a few hours that everything is normal, and if I can make videos that help you pretend everything is normal...then it's worth it. I'll keep doing it. Because that's _all_ I can do, for another thirty-seven days.”

Jack took another few minutes to compose himself after that answer, clearing his throat again and checking the next comment. “‘Does this mean Septiplier is real!?’ No. Mark and I are best friends, but we're not _boyfriends_. We're not dating, we weren't dating, we've never _been_ dating.” That should close all the loopholes, Jack hoped. “Or fucking. Or in any sort of sexual or romantic relationship. This sick pervert doesn't take people because their ship is real. He does it...I don't know why he does it. Probably gets off on the power of making the internet flip out. But it's not because of any actual relationship between Mark and me.”

The next comment had a string of question marks before it. Jack hadn’t had an answer when he compiled his list, but there were far too many in this category to leave it out completely. _If you knew you were a target, why didn’t you guys take better precautions?_

Jack stared blankly at the comment. What sort of precautions did they mean? Security had been beefed up across PAX, and he and Mark both had a personal bodyguard nearly 24/7. Jack hadn’t even been able to take a piss unaccompanied. What more could they possibly have done!?

Jack knew exactly what more. They could have doubled up, shared rooms with their friends, like how Felix had dragged Jack into his room after Mark was taken. They could have made sure they were _never_ alone, not just almost-never alone. Jack could have let Mark fall asleep on his shoulder, then walked him back to his room and collapsed on his bed himself, so neither of them were on their own and vulnerable. Jack pushed his hands into his hair, closing his eyes. They could have taken it more seriously, done so much more. They could have prevented Mark from getting kidnapped, they really could have...and they hadn’t.

Jack knew exactly what more, because his nights were plagued with what-ifs. What if he hadn’t been drinking? What if Mark roomed with Wade, or P.J.? What if they had just _left_ the convention, knowing it was dangerous?

Reaching out, Jack made a few clicks and deleted the question. He couldn’t answer that. _We thought we were. We didn’t know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Mark, I’m so, so sorry..._

Last comment. Jack double-checked the wording to give him time to pull himself together before reading it out loud. “‘What are you going to do about Mark?’” Jack looked straight at the camera. “Honestly? This is all I _can_ do. Real life isn't like the movies. Backwoods Irish boys don't track down serial kidnappers operating in the States. That's what the police are for, and the FBI, and Interpol. All I can do is beg you not to indulge in Mark's torment and try to keep you entertained, or at least distracted.” Jack scrubbed at his hair in frustration. “I hate it. I hate feeling this helpless, useless...but I really _can't_ do anything else, not until Mark is freed. When that happens, on day ninety...I guess I'll find him. Call the police. Help him get back home and back to his life as best I can.” _Unless he's dead._ Jack squatted his jaw against the traitorous thought and barreled on.

“In the meantime...I just want to keep pushing forward, to burn through this last horrible month. I don't...don't want to keep talking about Mark, dredging up all those horrible pictures. I just want…” Deep breath. “I'm going to keep being me, being Jacksepticeye. I'm going to keep trying to entertain you. And I'm going to keep trying to keep a place open for Mark, so when he _does_ come back, there's a back for him to come to. But I'm going to end this video here. If you _liked_ it, punch that like button in the face LIKE A BOSS _aaaand_ high-fives all around. So thank you guys, and I will see all you dudes _in the next video!_ ”

Jack's voice cracked and he slumped forward, hiding his face in his hands. This was going to be the post-closing Easter egg scene. He knew it, even as he hated showing _this_ level of vulnerability. He could already see the Tumblr gifs. “I miss him,” Jack whispered into his fingers. “I am _not_ okay…”

Fifty-three days down.

Thirty-seven to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	9. Day 73: The Ex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets an unexpected call from an old friend.

Jack’s cheek was smushed up against his eye as he lay on his arm, staring dully at his computer monitor. Mark’s bloody, bruised body filled his screen.

_Click_

Another angle, another moment in time. Mark’s anguish throbbed behind Jack’s eyes.

_Click_

Video. Jack lifted his head only long enough to take another swig of his bottle before settling back into position and pressing play.

As Mark shivered and cried silently, Jack continued to stare at the monitor. Not that he needed to watch. He had all of these photos and videos seared into his memory, just as they were saved on his hard drive.

Ever since Jack realized the hit counter meant more torture for Mark, more photos shared with the world, more of Mark’s pain and humiliation put on display, Jack had started saving the images to his computer. He kept having a _need_ to check them, to see Mark’s struggles, to see him still alive. These might very well be the last images of Mark _ever_. If the Ship Sinker killed him…

Jack shuddered and took another drink of his whiskey. If the Ship Sinker killed him, Jack might save these pictures to torture himself for all eternity with. If the Ship Sinker _didn’t_ kill him, Jack would delete the files and clean his hard drive of this poison.

If only he could erase the images from his mind so easily.

_Click_

Jack cringed and shut his eyes. He knew what the next picture was. He couldn’t look at it. He’d have to. He didn’t _have_ to. But he needed to. He couldn’t leave the series in the middle, no matter how much Jack did _not_ want to watch Mark’s own hands curl around his dick, watch Mark jerking off in that room as if he _liked_ it, liked what was being done to him, liked the torture heaped upon his shoulders. It was bad enough when _they_ forced him to orgasm. For Mark to do it to himself, no knife held as a threat, no restraints on his limbs…

That had been the first picture that threatened an actual breakdown in Jack. The next video clinched it for him. Jack had been violently ill and raged and screamed and ended up on the kitchen floor surrounded by bottles of alcohol and babbling near-incoherently into his phone to Felix.

God bless Felix. He flew out almost immediately and managed to save Jack from completely pickling his liver, though apparently there had been a couple of tense hours with Jack passed out on the couch and Felix debating calling for an ambulance.

Felix had stayed until Jack worked through his emotions as best he could. He dragged Jack to a gym to beat up a punching bag and work out some aggression. He held Jack as he sobbed dryly, unable to cry for Mark. He listened as Jack voiced his traitorous thought: _I want him to die._

Jack wanted Mark to die. He wanted Mark to die, and to die quickly, so he could stop suffering.

Three days later, that want was just as strong.

A pop-up appeared on his screen, accompanied by the melodious sounds of an incoming Skype call. Jack shifted, cracking his eyes open. Felix? No, Signe.

Signe. His ex. Why was she calling? What could she possibly want? Had she left something behind when she moved out?

Jack dragged his cursor over to click the green accept button. Signe’s face filled the screen, replacing Mark’s tortured form. She was beautiful as ever. Radiant. _Happy._

“Hi, Sean! I was thinking about you today, wondering how you were… doing… ah.”

Jack snorted into his arm, then rolled his face toward his camera. “Answer your question?”

“I’m so sorry…”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, but I know how you feel about him…” Signe trailed off, looking away. “I’m sorry. I wish I could give you a hug.”

Jack closed his eyes so he didn’t have to look at her. “...thank you.”

 _Signe_. Jack had adored this woman, had loved having her as part of his life. All his friends liked her too, which was important to him. And Signe… Signe had loved him. _Still_ loved him, she had reassured Jack. Their break-up had been amicable, though heart-wrenching, on both sides.

The plain truth of the matter was that Signe loved her family and Jack was a loner. Signe had given up so much of her life to move to Athlone with Jack, and Jack had… rewarded her by giving her no new local friends, no real activities outside of the house, and only the scraps of his time after Youtube had her way with him. Signe had endured with a smile on her face, but even she could only smile for so long.

Adding Robin to the Jacksepticeye team had helped, a little. Jack was able to spend more time with Signe, treat her better, like she deserved. He’d take her out on dates to movies and dinner, they’d go shopping together, with their arms linked, and she joined him at just about every convention… but he’d never take her on a real holiday. He couldn’t find the time. Everything in Jack’s life came back to YouTube, and in the end, Signe had conceded. She was miserable in Ireland, homesick and lonely, and Jack alone wasn’t enough to keep her happy.

Jack understood. Of course he did. It was the same reason why he never moved to L.A. or the UK, despite many pleas from friends and the community alike. As much as he complained, Jack _loved_ Ireland. Ireland was his home. His family was here. He loved the rain and the fog and way everything just _glowed_ green when the sun actually did come out. He loved the people and the culture and the history. Ireland was in his blood. Jack couldn’t have left it for a million Signes. If he couldn’t do what he was asking of her, it wasn’t fair to expect her to cave to him.

And so Signe had left him nearly a year ago now, and Jack had hid it from the community as long as possible to give her time to get settled and stable in her old life again. As much as Jack loved his community, they could get incredibly protective of him, including lashing out at Signe if they perceived any failure on her part to make him happy (even fictional failures, such as getting in the way of Septiplier). Jack had wanted to protect her from the backlash. It seemed to have worked. Signe faded from Jacksepticeye, and Jack’s community and Jack himself, stabilized.

She was still his friend. He still loved her. She had found a new boyfriend, one quieter than Jack, without the coffee addiction, but he was sweet and he made her smile. That was what counted. Jack was happy for her.

He did wish she could give him a hug. He could use a hug.

“Are you even listening?”

“Hmm?” Jack looked up at Signe again, shaken from his reminiscing. “Oh. Sorry. I… sorry.”

Signe’s smile was soft. “When was the last time you slept?”

Jack stared blankly at her. Sleep? What was sleep? What was sleep without nightmares of Mark, of that room, of blood and sex and bruising skin?

“Put the bottle down, Sean,” Signe murmured. “Put the bottle down and go to sleep.”

“I can’t…” Jack whispered.

“Put the bottle down and go to bed. Tomorrow is a new day,” Signe said. “I’ll call you on your phone and sing to you, okay?” Jack pouted, but Signe merely raised a perfect eyebrow. “Bottle down. Jackaboy up. Bed. Move it, boyo.”

Oh yeah, Jack missed sharing his life. He missed having someone who could notice when he wasn’t taking care of himself. “Yes, Signe…”

The call was transferred to his phone, and Jack stripped down to his underwear before faceplanting in his pillows. He groaned, and Signe sighed from the bedside table. “Make yourself comfortable, Sean.”

Grunting in protest at moving, Jack shimmied beneath his duvet and reached over to turn off the light. “Okay. I’m in bed.”

“Okay.” Jack could hear Signe shifting around in her seat, settling in. When he heard her voice again, it was soft and gentle, singing a lilting lullaby from her childhood. “ _Den lille Ole med paraplyen, ham kender alle småfolk i byen, hver lille pige, hver lille dreng, han lægger sødt i sin lille seng..._ ”

The familiar voice, the familiar language, the soft tune all washed through Jack’s exhausted mind. He sighed and yawned, closing his eyes and snuggling into his pillow. Slowly, he drifted asleep on the sound of Signe’s song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	10. Day 90: The Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Day 90, and one way or another, Jack is going to be reunited with Mark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We want to take a moment to thank everyone who has left reviews so far, whether they be huge dissertations or incoherent keyboard smashes. WrittenFIRES and I love every comment and cackle maniacally to each other with each new horror we unleash upon you.
> 
> So without further ado...Day 90!

Jack had gotten absolutely no sleep the night before. None. He tossed and turned in his bed until the duvet was helplessly twisted around his legs, and then he kicked it off, staring at the ceiling. Day 90. Everyone knew what that meant.

Today, Jack would find Mark.

The Ship Sinker website continued to be updated all week, but every new picture was just another shot of the blood-soaked room, a different angle, all of them empty. There hadn’t been an update with Mark in seven days. Jack had no idea if that was good or bad. Mark had been alive as of Day 83. The last update had been a video one, and Mark had still been moving on his own, barely, staring at the camera with vacant, dead eyes, the dog collar tight around his neck.

Jack shoved himself out of bed and stripped it with a growl, bundling up dirty sheets and throwing them into a pile on the floor. He stormed to his closet and pulled out his spare set, remaking the bed, yanking things into place with far more ferocity than they deserved. It distracted him for all of ten minutes as he wrestled the duvet into a fresh cover, but then he was left with that empty despair again.

Dishes. He had dishes he could wash. And when was the last time he actually cleaned the bathroom?

By 10 AM, Jack had scoured his entire flat until it sparkled. It was cleaner than when he had first moved in. Jack hauled a bag of rubbish out to the skip, scowling at the mess. Too much rubbish, and it wouldn’t be emptied until tomorrow. Someone had been painting, and they just left their paint cans chucked by the edge, a rolled up plastic tarp leaning against them. Someone else must have just moved in, or maybe it was the same person, because the skip was full of empty boxes. Jack chucked his own bag in, barely waiting for it to land before he had turned away. He kept his eyes to the sky instead of the ground, watching the gray clouds. Rain was coming. It looked like his chest felt.

Today, Jack was going to find Mark, and he didn’t want to.

Don’t get him wrong: Jack was happy that Mark was finally going to be free of his torture one way or another. It was the first time Jack had really felt happy in months. If Mark was dead...if Mark was dead, he wasn’t hurting anymore. He wasn’t being humiliated, beaten, _raped_ , his abuse splashed across the media and shared throughout the internet. There wasn’t a hit counter showing thousands of people _every damn day_ looking at his naked, broken body and his misery. If Mark were dead, he was free from all of that, and all of the fallout.

That was, Jack privately thought to himself, the absolute worst thing Mark’s kidnappers had done to Jack. They were the Ship Sinker for a reason. Mark was the physical victim, but Jack had been in agony watching him suffer. His own health had deteriorated, with too many sleepless nights and too much alcohol to numb his mind. Robin had been a godsend, able to edit _all_ of Jack’s videos during this time, helping him out with thumbnails and titles and telling him to go to bed. Felix had kept him sane, watching his videos and calling him up when the content started to suffer. He had even come out to Ireland when Jack had called him in the middle of the night in a drunken stupor, and had spent most of the next day just holding Jack as he failed to cry because Jack wanted Mark to die.

It felt like such a betrayal to his friend, looking at the photos and videos of this man he loved, wishing the next one would show his death. Would end it, just end it. And Jack couldn’t even fucking _cry_ for him. He hadn’t shed a single tear for Mark in the past ninety days, even when he tried. Oh, a good emotional gut-punch in a game could get him to tear up, and he’d shed a couple tears at night sometimes when he was exhausted but couldn’t sleep and so frustrated with himself, but those had been tears of stress, not over Mark. Jack had sobbed for Mark, curled against Felix’s shoulder, but it had been dry sobs that burned his throat and heart.

Jack could _feel_ the tears inside him, felt gray and soggy like the sky, but he couldn’t let them out. They just built and built, filling him with so much pressure and anger.

Jack hoped he would cry when he found Mark.

He was scared that he would.

Ninety days of pent-up tears were not going to fall softly. When Jack _did_ find Mark, that was going to be it, he was going to be useless. He had already made a vlog saying as much for his first upload today: the next week of videos were all pre-recorded. Either he would find Mark dead and grieve his friend, or he would find Mark alive and grieve all his friend had lost...or he wouldn’t find Mark at all and would be stuck in a numb uncertainty, wondering where Mark was.

If Jack found Mark, and Mark was dead… Jack shuddered to himself as he reentered his flat, locking the door behind him. If Mark was dead, Jack would be so relieved, so happy, but it would also mean _Mark was dead._ And dead people never came back. Not in real life.

But if Mark was _alive_ … Jack poured himself a mug of coffee, gulping it down and ignoring how it scalded his tongue. If Mark was alive, his torture wouldn’t be over. Healing could be just as bad as getting hurt. Maybe even more so, in Mark’s case. If Mark survived, he’d have to learn how to live outside of that room. He’d have to learn to live in a world where hundreds of thousands of people had seen pictures of his rape, where every single one of his fans, even the young children, undoubtedly knew about every last unwanted touch to his skin, every little drop of blood he had spilled. Jack closed his eyes, wrapping an arm around his belly and shivering. _That_ would be torture for Mark, who was simultaneously so open and so private. Jack didn’t want to find a body, but he didn’t want to see Mark shatter, not when he was already so broken.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, drawing Jack back to the present. He opened his eyes slowly, half-afraid he’d find Mark’s dismembered corpse hanging in front of him. His kitchen remained bloodless and clean. Jack shivered again, setting his mug down and pulling out his phone.

 _Hey._ It was Wade, sending him a Skype message. _How goes?_

Jack knew what he was really asking. Why else would Wade be awake at just past five in the morning his time? _Cleaned my whole flat. Drank an entire pot of coffee and made a second. Nothing else to report._

_Want to distract each other? Bob’s up too._

_Overwatch?_ Jack suggested.

_I’ll host._

The rain started just past noon, a steady drizzle that washed the outside of Jack’s windows. Jack barely paid it any attention, focusing instead on the bright colored carnage on the screen in front of him. The Grumps had joined in when they woke up, and Felix joined their group call around 4 PM. Every time Jack unfolded himself from his couch, his fingers cramped and aching from how tightly he’d gripped his controller, he made a round of his flat, checking every room and peering out every window and door before going to the toilet or grabbing some food from the kitchen (the latter only at Felix’s insistence when the Swede discovered from the others in the call that Jack hadn’t eaten all day, surviving on near-endless coffee and stress). No Mark. The sky was growing darker as the sun set behind all the clouds. Jack was slumped over, his head pressed against the pillows of his couch, barely paying attention as the Grumps argued over which game to play next.

“This... _is_ the right day...right?” Bob was the one who hesitantly brought up the elephant in the room, their missing Markiplier. “Jack, you haven’t seen anything?”

“If I’d found Mark,” Jack croaked, “I wouldn’t still be on this call with you guys.”

“You are _looking_ , right?” Wade asked. “I mean, they’ve always been dumped somewhere they’d be found…”

“Every time I get up.” Jack lifted his hand to flick his cursor to the bottom of his screen, checking the time on his laptop’s clock. Almost 7 PM.

“Maybe the site has updated…?” Suzy suggested hesitantly. “I’ll check…”

“It hasn’t updated in a week,” Jack reminded her. “I mean, not updated with a picture of Mark. It’s all just that fucking _room_.”

“Can’t hurt to check. Even if we drive the hit counter up, Mark’s not there to be hurt anymore.”

Jack dully closed his eyes again. Everyone was being practically _cheerful_ about it. Day ninety! The horror was over! Didn’t they realize that Jack still needed to discover a body? And not just any body, but the body of his best friend?

“Oh my god…” Suzy’s voice was a harsh whisper a few minutes later, with Danny and Arin making confused noises in the background. “It’s not the room anymore…it’s a...dumpster?”

Jack moved on autopilot, grabbing his laptop before he had finished sitting up. He didn’t even need to type the url anymore; his browser had it remembered.

Suzy was right. The new picture _was_ a dumpster, a skip...a familiar skip. “Oh my god,” Jack echoed. “Oh god, that’s...that’s the one outside.” He recognized the boxes and the paint cans. This picture had been taken recently.

“Is Mark _in_ the dumpster?” Suzy squeaked.

“I don’t know, it was pretty full…”

“That tarp is taped,” Bob said, his statement dropping like a lead weight into the conversation. “You don’t tape a tarp you used for painting. You just crumple it up. You don’t _roll_ it.”

“That was there this morning,” Jack whispered, feeling cold horror wrap around his spine. “I went out this morning, that tarp was there…”

There was a moment of silence in the Skype chat, and then everyone was talking at once, shouting at Jack to go. Their desperation fueled his own, and Jack all but vaulted over the couch, racing out the door.

The rain was still pouring down as Jack sprinted to the skip. The rolled tarp had fallen onto its side, shining wetly in the parking lot lights. Jack dropped to his knees in a puddle, pressing his hands against the plastic. Solid. It was wrapped around something solid. The sobs were coming now, shaking Jack’s body as he tore at the duct tape, trying desperately to rip through it, to get the plastic unrolled. _No no no nonononono!_

Jack managed to rip the duct tape open and he shoved at the tarp, unrolling it across the asphalt. Even expecting it, Jack still screamed when Mark’s body flopped out, naked save for a collar around his neck and duct tape bonds around his arms and legs, another strip across his mouth...and his eyes. His eyes were _open_ , blinking against the rain.

He wasn’t dead.

Jack crawled across the unrolled tarp, barely able to see as he reached for the other man, his ocean of tears finally choosing this moment to burst forward. “Mark, Mark…!” He couldn’t make his lips form any other word as he scrabbled at the tape, his hands, arms, his whole _body_ shaking. He managed to grab a corner by Mark’s mouth, sobbing as he ripped it off, knowing it had to hurt, needing Mark to _say_ something. There had been three months of silence. Jack needed to hear his voice again, needed that sound to make this horror real.

“Mark, Jesus, Mark…” The light above the skip shone down on them, a spotlight to the grisly sight. Jack didn’t care. He fumbled at Mark’s body-- _too skinny, too frail_ \--his brain running in a thousand directions at once. Mark was cold. Mark was wet. Mark was sick. Mark didn’t know who he was. Mark was still taped up and trapped. He should call the police. He should call an ambulance.

“...please… just go away…. Leave me alone…. I can’t….”

It was soft, and quiet, and hoarse beyond recognition but still _Mark’s voice._ Mark curled in on himself, shivering in the cool Irish rain and startling Jack into action. Mark was _naked, sick, and cold_. Jack fumbled with his hoodie, unzipping it, yanking it off, wrapping it around Mark’s bare shoulders as he pulled the other man against him. Mark made an aborted move with his arms up toward the hoodie, recognizing its presence even if he couldn’t really move against his bonds. “It’s...no, Mark, it’s me, it’s Jack, it’s Jack...god, Mark, I’m not gonna hurt you…” Jack was hardly much of a rainbreak, and his hoodie wasn’t going to do Mark much good, but at least some clothes were better than no clothes, right?

His wet jeans had to be better than the cold plastic too, warmer and softer with living legs inside them. Jack pulled Mark into his lap, hating how easy it was to move the other man. There was barely anything _to_ Mark, and with his limbs bound together, Mark couldn’t even fight back if he’d wanted to. Jack knew the wetness on his face was more from tears than the rain as he hugged Mark against his t-shirt, pressing his face against Mark’s greasy hair and trying to pull himself together. Mark needed him to _help_ right now, not blubber uselessly in the rain.

Mark still smelled like himself. Beneath the rain and the blood and the plastic, beneath the smells of dirt and sweat and sex, there was still a note, a _hint_ of the man he had been, the man who would laugh and grab him in a hug, so vibrant and _alive_ and _here_ …

Jack’s hands still trembled, and unstoppable sobs still shook his entire body, but somehow holding Mark, hearing him, smelling him, helped clarify Jack’s mind. He adjusted Mark in his lap, leaning Mark against his chest, and reached for the tape around his wrists with both hands. “This might hurt, Mark, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but I’m gonna get it off you.” Mark was _sick_ , possibly delirious after what he’d been through. Jack thickened his accent and kept talking, dipping his mouth close to Mark’s ear so the other man could definitely hear him, maybe latch on to his voice. “Mark, I’m gonna get this tape off your arms, and your legs, and then I’m gonna call an ambulance, okay, Mark?” He kept up a steady stream of words as he worked, shaking in the rain, gripping and ripping at the layers of duct tape. “You’re gonna get better, Mark. You’re in Ireland. You’re with me, with Jack. I’m gonna get you to a hospital, get you taken care of. You’re not gonna die.”

How could Jack have wanted this man to die? _How?_ Mark was alive in his arms, warm and solid, his breathing labored and wheezing but _there_ , in and out, against Jack’s chest. Mark was _alive_ , and alive he’d be able to heal, he’d be able to come back, to live again, to laugh again. How could Jack have ever wanted Mark to die without a second chance at life?

The last layer of tape gave way beneath Jack’s determination, and Jack peeled it off Mark’s wrists, glad the American was abnormally hairless so it wouldn’t hurt so much. Mark still hissed and whimpered, hiding his face in Jack’s chest. “There, see, got your hands free now. You’re gonna get better, Mark. You’re not dead. You’re not gonna die. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“Please… please…” Mark’s words were coughed out of his lungs, his crooked, swollen fingers grasping at Jack’s shirt and pressing against his chest. He was still curled up and shivering in Jack’s lap, but he at least seemed to be realizing that Jack wasn’t here to hurt him. “Help….”

“I’m trying, Mark, I’m trying…” Jack shook the tape off his fingers, choking on another sob when he saw the deep bruising on Mark’s wrist. _Broken, they broke it, idiot!_ How had Jack forgotten that?

Easily, really. Mark’s wrist wasn’t the only thing swollen and discolored. His whole body was littered with bruises and cuts, too many injuries for even Jack to keep track of, despite his religious monitoring of the shipper site. Jack reached for Mark’s legs, to pull the tape off his ankles, but he stopped, trying to remember if Mark had any broken bones there. He couldn’t. Jack hesitated, then just gathered Mark in close, wrapping around his frail body as much as he could manage. “I don’t want to hurt you more, Mark, I don’t want to…” He could just call the police now, could just...call the police. With his mobile. Left by his couch. “ _Fuckdamn._ ”

Leaving Mark outside was out of the question. Jack wrapped his arms around his shoulders, taking a few deep breaths. “Mark...Mark, I’m gonna have to carry you, okay? If I...if I pick you up, can you hold onto my shoulders? Can you…” Could Mark even understand him right now? He was burning up with a fever, Jack could tell even through the cool rain, shaking and babbling. He had to be delirious with pain from all of his injuries. “I’m gonna pick you up now, Mark, okay? Gonna...gonna get you inside, where it’s warm and dry. Just hold on. I’m gonna get you inside, get you help.”

Mark mumbled a response, his twisted hands tightening over Jack’s shirt with barely any strength behind the grip. Jack felt a fresh sob bubble forth and swallowed heavily, choking on his tears. He could do this. He _had_ to.

Picking up Mark was easier said than done. Even if Mark was wasted away to little more than a skeleton, he was still as tall as Jack. Jack closed his eyes and drew a deep, shaky breath. “Gonna have to put you down first, but I’ll pick you right back up again, okay? I’m right here, Mark, I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I promise. I’m right here.” Jack eased Mark out of his lap, hating the need to put Mark back in the cold puddle, but the sooner he set Mark down, the sooner he could jump to his feet and bend over to pick Mark up again. Mark didn’t make it any easier, clinging to Jack as he was set down, scrabbling at his chest when he was picked back up.

“Try to hold onto my shoulders, Mark, just try to hold on to me. I won’t drop you, but that’ll make it easier.” Just keep talking. Mark seemed to be hearing, even if he couldn’t listen properly. His hands managed to catch on Jack’s shirt, one on the collar, one at his shoulder. Jack was not about to shut up if it was helping. It was the only comfort he could offer Mark.

Mark was lighter than he should have been, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still heavy. Jack struggled to get in through each set of doors without banging Mark into a wall or banister. Somehow, he made it up to his flat without bruising Mark further, never stopping his steady stream of reassurances, repeating Mark’s name as often as he could. Mark’s eyes slipped shut, but he wasn’t asleep. He grimaced and squirmed in Jack’s arms, his exposed skin mottled with goosebumps and bruises, ghastly in the bright light of the apartment. Half a dozen voices were still chattering away: Jack had left the Skype call up.

“Jack!?” That was Suzy’s voice carrying over the other male voices on the line. “Jack, are you back, do you have him?”

“I have him,” Jack choked out, stumbling over to the sofa and managing a controlled crash, getting Mark on the cushions without falling on top of him. Mark wheezed and groaned but didn’t seem injured any worse. Jack snagged the blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping the fluffy fabric around Mark’s wet body as best he could. “He’s alive, can someone tweet it? I can’t, gotta call an ambulance, it’s bad, he’s bad, he’s...god, Mark, can you hear them?”

Jack didn’t shut off the call as he searched around for his phone, hampered by Mark’s weak hold on him. Mark didn’t seem to want to let go, and Jack really couldn’t blame him. He didn’t want to pull away, but _there_ , his phone was just past the edge of the couch. Jack stretched his arm as far as he could, then shifted around and wiggled a leg out until he could hook it with his foot and bring it in close. “Mark, you’re gonna be okay, just hang in there.” 999, he had to dial 999.

“Holy fuck, Mark, is that you?” Bob was quick to address the grunts but was nearly cut-off by a stunned Wade.

“You sound terrible!” There was a pause, and then Wade quickly amended his initial outcry. “I mean-, of course you do, that was really dumb. I… Mark, can you hear us? Jack, how delirious is he?”

Mark’s only response was to groan again and burrow deeper into the fluffy blanket. He wiggled and squirmed, and despite it all kept his fingers on Jack’s soaked shirt.

“I don’t think he even knows it’s _me,_ ” Jack admitted as he unlocked his phone and opened the keypad. Felix swore softly in Swedish as the operator answered his call. “Yes, ambulance, I need an ambulance, sorry guys, I’m gonna turn you off now.” Jack leaned over to hit the End Call button on the Skype call before curling around Mark’s barely-exposed head, one arm wrapping protectively around Mark’s body.

There was someone else talking in Jack’s ear, someone asking him questions and telling him what to do. Jack pressed his face into Mark’s filthy hair, still weeping as he let someone else take charge. It was easier to deal with this when there was a soft voice talking reassuringly to _him_ , guiding him through checking Mark’s pulse and telling him everything was going to be okay, the ambulance was on its way.

The only time Jack didn’t listen to the nice lady on the other end of the line was when the ambulance finally _did_ arrive, and they tried to pull Mark away from Jack. Mark had fallen asleep, still clinging to Jack’s shirt, still gasping for every breath, but the paramedics were trying to break his hold. Jack actually growled at them, glaring through his tears, just daring them to try.

He wasn’t entirely sure if he had been intimidating enough, half-crazed from his unending tears and shock and horror and relief, or if the paramedics had a policy to just let the crazies have their way, or if Mark was a special case, but Jack had ended up getting an ambulance ride to the hospital at Mark’s side. It took a pair of nurses to coax Jack to finally let Mark go, so the doctors could move in and actually _help_.

Once they had gotten Jack away, it was much easier to _keep_ him away. Jack raged and cried and curled up in a chair in the waiting room they put him in, staring at the door and waiting for someone to come back with news about Mark. Several police officers came in to talk to him. Jack told them everything he could remember through his tears.

Mark looked entirely different the next time Jack saw him, sedated and medicated, cleaned up and dressed in a hospital gown, heavily bandaged, with various casts and splints on his limbs. Jack managed to coax the hospital staff into letting him stay the night, and he slept in a chair at Mark’s side, holding Mark’s unbroken arm gently in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	11. Day 92: Hospitals and Drugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark wakes up feeling good.

It still took days before Mark woke up for any length of time. Jack grew both loved and hated by the nurses, showing up with doughnuts half an hour before visiting hours were officially open, needing to be kicked out at the end of every day. He only left Mark’s side to use the toilet, otherwise keeping one hand on Mark’s arm the whole time. With his other hand, Jack checked the internet’s reactions. Felix had tweeted that Mark was alive, and just about every YouTuber under the sun had retweeted it.

Phil had DMed Jack with a very short message: _I’m sorry._

Jack had put up a vlog on day ninety that he had pre-recorded a week’s worth of videos, so he didn’t have to worry about his channel while he was dealing with whatever shit finding Mark dumped on him. It had been two full days since Mark was admitted to the hospital. Three days of videos down, four to go. Jack looked over at Mark and ran his thumb over the inside of Mark’s wrist. _Please wake up soon. I miss you…_

Jack had just finished responding to a text from Tyler (no change, he’s still out of it) when Mark stirred and spoke gibberish and then immediately began coughing. Jack nearly dropped his phone in shock, reaching over to help steady Mark, grabbing pillows and shoving them behind him to lean against. “Whoa, Mark, whoa, just lay back, it’s okay, you’re okay…!” Mark wasn’t okay, Mark was far from okay, but it had to be disorienting to wake up in yet another unfamiliar room. Mark was _safe_ here. He was healing. That was a good enough definition of ‘okay’ for Jack.

Mark was shaking his head and managing to croak a word Jack recognized, though. Water, water, there was water left around here somewhere… Jack let go of Mark to grab a pitcher and a glass, filling it with water and returning to Mark’s side. “Here, Mark, small sips, okay? I’ll hold it for you, you’ve got plastic hands right now.” Half of Mark’s fingers were splinted, and one of his wrists was broken. Mark wasn’t going to be doing much for himself for a while.

Jack sat on the edge of Mark’s bed, wrapping one arm around Mark’s shoulders to support him as he lifted the cup to Mark’s cracked lips. This was more coherency than Jack had seen in days. There was a lump of relief in Jack’s throat as he watched Mark, drinking in every little sign of life and vitality in the other man as greedily as Mark drank the water. Mark’s coughing slowed as he took the forced sips until the glass was empty and he could breathe normally again. He took several deep breaths as Jack lowered the glass, then very purposely leaned forward and away from Jack’s arm, leaving Jack feeling unusually cold.

“Someone turn down the brightness, these hospitals always suuuuck….”

Mark’s voice was raspy and slurred, weak from disuse and his pneumonia, but it was still _Mark’s voice_ , saying things that were real words, words that fit full sentences, sentences that made sense. Jack’s eyes started to water again as he drew his arms against his chest. _Pull yourself together, Jackaboy!_ It had taken a full day before Jack stopped bursting into tears at the sight of anything that reminded him of Mark at all, including the colors red, blue, and pink, and his eyes were only just starting to recover from the ocean he had sobbed.

Mark didn’t seem to notice, too busy glaring at the white blankets over his legs. His eyes were cracked open but unfocused, as blurry as his voice. Mark flopped back when Jack’s arm was gone, slumping over his stacked pillows and staring up at the ceiling. “It’s too white. Why the fuck is there always so much white I mean, it doesn’t make any sense. _I_ don’t make any sense. What am I even talking about right now?? Where am I? Who’re y-”

Mark was rambling, moving jerkily, like he kept forgetting to finish his actions, probably a side effect of all the drugs. His eyes were dark, searching the room for anything familiar. Jack felt a twinge of remorse: he’d asked Tyler to send him Mark’s glasses as quickly as possible. Tyler had managed to overnight them from L.A. to Ireland...and Jack had left them at home. He’d bring them tomorrow. Mark was still scouring the room, his head bobbing a little as he looked back and forth and _finally_ spotted Jack. Jack held his breath as that battered face tilted to the side, too-long, too-faded hair falling across his face. Mark’s eyes widened, and his voice dropped from a harsh complaint to a startled whisper.

“...Jack?”

Jack about melted on the spot. _Mark_. Mark was actually here, was actually seeing him, recognizing him, talking to him…

“Welcome back, Mark,” Jack said softly, reaching out for his friend again, just his wrist this time, his usual hold, not trying to hug him. Mark made it very clear he didn’t want the hug. “And welcome to Ireland.” Sniff. Dammit. Jack set the empty glass aside and swiped his sleeve across his eyes. “You’re in hospital. You’ve been here for two days now.”

“Holy shit. Jack. Jack, jack, jack, jack, jaaaack- uh. Crap… hang on, I forgot… right! Jack. Hi Jack. I haven’t seen you in fucking… fucking… uh….” Mark pulled a face, his irritation getting the better of him. He blew some air past his lips and looked back at Jack. “Fuck, I don’t know. Too long. I mean, Ireland?? What am I doing in Ireland? And in the hospital. Right. All the white… and the beeping… oh, hooked up to an IV again….”

“Ninety days,” Jack whispered nearly inaudibly as Mark pulled a face at the IV in his wrist, sticking out his tongue and wiggling his arm. “Well, ninety-two now, I suppose…” Not like Jack had kept a huge countdown on his wall, crossing off each day Mark had survived hell.

Mark looked back at Jack, clearly struggling to see him. “Two days, huh? Been sleeping that whole time. Got kinda sick of it. Wanted to see who kept touchin’ me.” Mark looked down at the wrist Jack was holding.

“Oh.”

Jack held his breath, his touch light, but he was not about to relinquish this hold. Not unless Mark _really_ didn’t want it. Jack needed to feel the solidity of his best friend beneath his fingers. Know that this was _real_ , not a dream. Mark was _safe._ Even if Mark kept staring silently at his hand.

“I can’t really remember much. Right now. But I’m all banged up so I guess I’m on metric loads of painkillers? Damn. Where’s my glasses? I’m really tryin’ to remember… how exactly I got here….” Mark finally looked away, wiggling his free arm again and scrutinizing his bandaged body. He reached up to prod at his face, his brow furrowed. “‘M all banged up.”

Mark certainly wasn’t _acting_ like someone who had gone through hell. Jack bit his lip as Mark went through his self-diagnosis, watching Mark’s confusion play out across that expressive face.

 _I’m not going to tell you,_ Jack decided. Doped-up Mark was a happy Mark, and Jack didn’t know if Mark was ever going to be happy again, watching those videos, looking at those pictures. He was being almost playful as he fiddled with his bandages and seemed to be debating pulling them off. Jack hated lying, but maybe he could give Mark this day. “Left your glasses at home, Mark, sorry about that. Didn’t realize you’d be waking up today. I’ll bring them tomorrow. Don’t worry so much about trying to remember.”

Jack had no doubt that Mark’s amnesia was tied to his drugs. It would fade, in time. There’d be no way it would stay, no way Mark _wouldn’t_ remember…

Unless by some act of god, it wasn’t the drugs at all, but Mark’s over-stressed brain trying to protect him, blocking out the memories of those ninety days of hell. Maybe that would be better, so Mark could learn what had happened to him without directly _remembering_.

Jack doubted they would be so lucky.

“Eh, whatever. Who needs glasses? Not me. I’ve got the vision of an eagle. Like that bright spot on the ceiling? It’s a light. Boom. I’m awesome.”

Jack was grateful Mark couldn’t read the nuances of his expression right now. He wasn’t sure if Mark was joking or genuinely convinced everything was great. That loopy smile Mark was giving him was hardly very conclusive either way. It could have been egotistical, or it could have been a self-deprecating jest. “...you really scared me. But it’s over now, and you can get better.”

“Me, scare you? Ha. Yeah right. You said so yourself that I’m one of the least scary things in the universe. Even when I’m trying to be demonic. And now I’m in a hospital bed, so I’m _doubly_ pathetic. You don’t make any sense, Jack. Quit doing that.”

Mark reached over to give Jack a playful shove, but there was no followthrough. Instead, his smile faded as Mark stared at where his hand was on Jack’s arm as if it held all the secrets of the universe for an uncomfortable amount of time. As quickly as he stopped talking, Mark started up again as if nothing was wrong. “I’m all banged up, all right. Sort of look like a Happy Wheels character when you fuck up.” 

Mark laughed. Mark laughed, and it sounded faked and forced even _with_ the drugs loaded up in Mark’s system. Jack wanted to cry again. He couldn’t. Not now. He forced himself to smile back. He couldn’t force himself to laugh.

“I hope I don’t have to be here too long. I hate hospitals. It’s always hospitals. Always, always… feel good, though. Real good. Kinda loopy, if I’m gonna be honest. You probably noticed. Bet I sound like a complete derpy moron! Sorry. I’ve got motormouth too. Maybe I should just stop talking.”

“Yeah you do,” Jack said. “So there’s nothing new there…” This sort of banter, laughing, the way Mark smiled and looked at him and jested with him...it was all so _achingly_ familiar, and Jack hadn’t thought he’d ever experience it again.

It was all wrong, though, off like his laughter, a jarring note of discord in Mark’s usual persona. The drugs were keeping him from remembering, but they were also keeping the deeper parts of Mark from surfacing, the way he could look into Jack with his dark eyes, the depth of his smile that said a thousand different things depending on how you were looking back, the tone of his laugh that was a bit too breathless and a bit too serious. It was more than Jack ever thought he’d get again, and it still wasn’t good enough.

“You got hurt, Mark,” Jack whispered, squeezing Mark’s wrist gently. _“That’s_ what scared me. That’s why you’re all banged up, and higher than a kite in a storm. I’m just...I’m glad you’re feeling better right now. I really am.” He couldn’t stop staring at Mark, drinking in every doped up expression as if it were the last chance he had.

Mark shot Jack another lopsided, dopey grin at the agreement. “Aw, you big worrywart. You shouldn’t be so scared! It’s me! The insurmountable. The survivor. The guy who’s been in and out of hospitals so many times I should just have my own personal room. Sure, I look like shit, but it’s just a flesh wound!” He grinned at his own reference. “You’ll see. Give it a few weeks and you’ll forget I was even hurt. I’ll bounce back and we can joke around like nothing ever happened. I’ll be better before you know it, and out of this damn hospital, and we can play Overwatch together. Or whatever you wanna do, I mean, I’m in _Ireland._ Take me to your pot of gold, you stupid leprechaun.” And Mark was giggling again, leaning back against his pillows.

Jack freed one hand from Mark’s wrist, sliding his sleeve over his palm and dabbing at his eyes, unable to help the few tears escaping him. For ninety days, he couldn’t cry, and now it seemed like he couldn’t stop.

This _wasn’t_ Mark. It was a distorted image of him, not quite an imposter, but a reflection in a swift-moving river. And yet, at the same time, it _was_ Mark, was his old self, twisted by the drugs but still _there_. Still _alive_.

When the drugs wore off and the memories came back, Jack highly doubted this would be the man he was left with. If Mark could even stomach being in the same room as him, Jack would count himself lucky. But this happy, doped-up Mark was proof positive that he wasn’t completely ruined and shattered beyond all repair. The old Mark was still inside him, somewhere. He could come back.

 _Why did I ever wish you would die?_ Jack tried not to think, forcing a smile instead at his friend. “Oh, Mark, it takes a lot more sweet-talkin’ than that to get a leprechaun to part wit’ his gold, by Jaysus.” He let his Irish out more, hoping it would get another laugh from the other man. “You’ll have to actually kick me arse in Overwatch, get more kills in a single game.”

Mark was obviously falling asleep, his drug-induced brightness fading, but he was still watching Jack with delight. He half-laughed, half-coughed at the exaggerated accent. “You’re such a dork…. A big, Irish…” A pause to yawn. “...nerd. Well, small nerd. Heh. Still taller than you~” Mark’s tone was teasing, but his volume was growing softer as his eyes closed again, “...even… in a hospital bed…. And, I’ll kick your ass… in any game… any day… even right… now…..” A yawn interrupted his words. “...after a nap….” Whatever else Mark was saying drifted away into mumbles as he fell asleep

Jack smiled easier through his tears at Mark’s laugh, watching as Mark fell asleep mid-sentence. He wiped his eyes again, sucking in a deep breath, and laid his head down on his arms, resuming his vigil of Mark-watching. “You sleep, Mark. I’ll be here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	12. Day 97: Mark Remembers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Mark's drugs are reduced, memories return.

When Jack showed up with his usual morning doughnut bribe for the nurses, he could tell today was different. They weren’t smiling indulgently at him, pretending they didn’t see him slip past them and into Mark’s room before he was technically allowed. _He’s not doing well_ , they said. _It’s best if he doesn’t have visitors today._

Screw that. Jack shoved the bag of doughnuts at the nurse in front of him and sprinted past her, gripping the strap of his bag tightly. He knew exactly where Mark’s room was, and he wasn’t about to let something stupid like hospital policy keep him away. _Especially_ not if Mark wasn’t doing well. If Mark had taken a turn for the worse, if his infections or pneumonia had spiked… Jack’s heart was hammering in his throat as he burst into Mark’s room, slamming the door behind him. He knew they had been weaning Mark off the most potent of his medications. Had they gone too fast, letting the sickness gain a foothold in Mark’s body?

The sight that greeted Jack was worse than he had expected. Mark was lying motionless in his bed, fresh scratches etched across his face. Jack knew they were fresh, because he knew exactly how injured Mark’s face had been yesterday, had been memorizing it every day, cataloguing the tiny changes as Mark healed. His arms and legs were strapped to the rails of the bed.

_He was strapped to the bed._

Jack had never understood how someone could actually ‘see red’ until that moment. He dropped his messenger bag to the floor (holding his laptop and notebook, so he could at least talk with his fans while on hiatus), the edges of his vision pink-tinged. As the nurses got the door open behind him, Jack’s hands clenched into fists.

“What,” he asked, his voice tremoring in his lowest register, “the _hell_ is going on here?”

“You’re not allowed to be here, Jack.” One of the nurses began to reach for his arm, but Jack turned on her with a hiss, his nails digging into the palms of his hands.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

She drew back her hand immediately, watching Jack with a cagey look in her eyes.

“Why is he restrained!?” Jack demanded, stalking back toward the bed. “He’s a fucking _kidnap victim_!” Mark was definitely out of it, in a doped, drugged-out sleep, not a normal sleep at all. He wasn’t about to wake up no matter how much Jack snarled. “He’s been restrained enough! Get these off him!”

“ _Jack_ ,” the nurse scolded. They all knew his name now, after a week of getting morning doughnuts and Jack’s most charming smiles beneath that signature green hair. “He’s a danger to himself-”

“He is _not_!” Jack tugged at the bindings, trying to find where they fastened so he could undo them himself.

“Look at his face, Jack. He did that to himself.”

Jack reached up to touch one of the deeper scratches, his scowl growing deeper. “Probably because he was fucking _triggered_ -”

“He woke up and he panicked, Jack. He’s been sedated and restrained for his own good.”

Jack was already shaking his head, trying to focus his pink-tinged vision on the tricky buckles. “This isn’t for his own good. This will make things worse.”

“He _panicked_ , Jack, and he ripped stitches open, clawed at his own skin, attacked the early shift…” The nurse touched Jack’s arm again, and this time, he let her, though he couldn’t stop himself from growling slightly under his breath. “It’s for his own good.”

In the end, Jack wasn’t able to get the cuffs off. The nurses, while sweet and gentle, were also hard as iron beneath their sympathetic smiles. Mark needed to be restrained until he could prove he could be awake without harming himself or others. Jack sat by his bed, holding his wrist above the cuff, waiting for the sedative to finish working its way out of Mark’s system, waiting for that first movement to show Mark was waking up.

“Mark?” Jack looked up when Mark finally twitched beneath him. Mark was looking at him, jerking helplessly at his restraints. The terror in Mark’s face was too much like that first night, and Jack’s throat started to swell up again...but no. No, Mark needed him to explain. He was mouthing wordlessly, panic building in those unfocused eyes. “Mark, shh, it’s okay, it’s okay. You’re at a hospital, they’ll take the cuffs off if you stay calm. You’re safe, Mark, you’re safe.” Accent, heavier accent, Mark reacted well to the Irish last time.

“Mark, please try to stay calm, okay? If you can stay calm, they’ll take the cuffs off. I promise. Here. Here, I have your glasses, okay? I’m gonna put them on, don’t move so I don’t poke you in the eye…” Jack kept one hand on Mark’s arm, leaving that point of contact between them as he twisted over to snag Mark’s glasses from the table. He flipped the arms open using the bed rail, then carefully maneuvered them over Mark’s face, trying to ignore how desperately Mark was blinking, as if trying to hold back his own tears.

As soon as the glasses slid into place, it was like a switch had been flipped. Mark’s frantic jerking suddenly froze. He stared straight ahead, at a corner of his bed. After a full minute of that, his eyes slid to the right, then to the left. His head started to move as well, letting him take in the entirety of the hospital room before those dark eyes finally settled on Jack, staring at him ravenously. Jack held his breath as Mark stared him down. It had been three months since Mark last saw him. Jack could forgive him for staring.

“You’re safe now, Mark. I’m here. I have you. Okay? If you can just...just nod or something, let me know you’re understanding, and I’ll call the nurse in and she’ll uncuff you.”

Mark was so lost and confused, and it was breaking Jack’s heart, confirming that the drugs had caused his earlier happiness, and not any sort of mental defense. Jack talked softly to Mark in the face of that expression, moving slowly and explaining what he was doing, talking like he had to his parents’ horse whenever it got startled and he was trying to soothe it. Damn horse got startled by everything, but it liked Jack well enough. He hoped the tone would work on Mark as well.

Mark seemed calm enough for the moment, though he looked down at his restrained hands and had an obvious moment of panic. His head jerked between the cuff and Jack’s face, his mouth trembling around a word. “J- Jack-”

“I’m here, Mark. I’m here.” Jack rubbed his thumb over the skin of Mark’s arms, licking his lips as Mark focused on his face. “Good, you’re doing good. I’m going to call a nurse in, okay? If she sees that you’re calm, she’ll take the cuffs off.” She’d better, or Jack would stop the doughnut bribes.

Not that that was a great threat, but now that Jack himself was calmer, he wasn’t about to go full primal mode on some innocent nurses who were just trying to protect their patient. Jack kept talking softly as he pressed the button to call a nurse, holding Mark’s gaze.

“They said you woke up this morning and hurt yourself. They almost didn’t let me in today. Good thing I sweetened them up with doughnuts, eh?” Did it matter what he was saying? Was Mark listening to his words or just hearing his tone? “They keep kicking me out at night, but I’m gonna try to stay this time. Maybe they’ll let me if you say it’s okay.” It’s not like Mark had any family here to sit with him, after all. Jack had reached out to Mark’s family through a Skype with Wade, showing them Mark’s sleeping form and assuring them he’d let them know the moment Mark was coherent enough to make a trip to Ireland worth it. None of them had any idea how long Mark would be out recovering. Jack would have hated if Mark’s family had put their lives on hold to come visit him, only to need to leave before Mark was actually awake and able to reassure them himself. It was hard to convince Mark’s two mothers to stay in the States, but thankfully his brother understood what Jack had been saying.

Jack knew part of his suggestion had been purely selfish. He didn’t want to share Mark with anyone yet. It was hard enough to let the nurses check in on him whenever Jack was around. _Clearly_ , they did a piss-poor job of _actually_ helping Mark, if this morning and the restraints were anything to go by. Jack didn’t want Mark’s family swooping in, shoving him away before he’d reassured _himself_ that Mark was still here, still alive, no longer trapped and screaming.

“Just stay calm, Mark, okay? Just stay calm. I’ll stay right here while she takes the cuffs off, you just stay calm and show her you’re not going to hurt yourself again, okay Mark?”

“Off… off, Jack- _off-_ ” Mark paled a little, his skin losing what little color it had retained during his captivity. “I….” The fear was obvious in Mark’s face, in his eyes, the lines around his mouth. “Jack….”

But then there were approaching footsteps, and a nurse entered. She was frowning and looking hesitantly between the two young adults. One could hardly blame her after being assaulted by one and then snapped at by the other in a vicious rage. Still, she took her job seriously so she was not about to run away even though she had an idea of what was coming. “Yes? Did you need something?”

“He’s calm,” Jack said, looking up at the nurse. “He’s awake, and he’s calm, see? He’s not going to hurt himself. Can you take the cuffs off?” Jack slid his thumb over Mark’s skin, glancing down at Mark again. Mark looked so scared, and his heart rate monitor was all over the place. He was far from _calm_ , but he was at least not struggling against the bonds. “Please?” Jack added. “They’re making things worse. He’ll stay in bed.”

The nurse pursed her lips with a dubious frown. Mark’s heart rate monitor was spiking, and his expression was frazzled. He was anything _but_ calm. He was also tugging lightly at the restraints, though, clearly upset _because_ of them. She frowned, clearly uncertain, but stepped forward.

“He isn’t calm. Protocol states he shouldn’t be released until he is and is cognizant enough to comprehend consequences. Do you understand? If I undo the buckles now, he could be putting not only himself, but you and myself at risk. If he hurts you or himself again, we are liable. This is for his own safety….” They were all things that had been reiterated earlier but were no less important now.

“... _please…._ ”

Jack clenched his free hand into a fist below the edge of the bed, fighting with himself to keep his voice level and calm as Mark begged with a wheeze. “He’s not calm _because_ he’s been tied up. He’s been tied up for _three months_. If you keep him tied up, _you’re going to break him_.” The terror in Mark’s dark eyes scared Jack, and he would do anything to chase that fear away. Right now, that anything involved staying calm and rationalizing things out with the nurse. _Uncuff him or I’ll cut him free myself._ “I won’t sue if he hurts me. My own damn fault. I won’t let him sue either if he hurts himself. I’ll let him sue _me_ , okay? Just please, _please_ , let him go. Please.”

The nurse was clearly torn. Jack knew policies were policies for a reason… but Mark was a special case. Nobody here had dealt with anything like his torture before. Jack tried not to cross his fingers too obviously.

“...fine. I’ll undo the buckles, but if he acts up they’re going right back on, and he’ll be sedated again. And you won’t be allowed to see him until he’s no longer having violent attacks. Understand?” Her tone was dead serious as she worked each belt on the little cuffs loose; starting with Mark’s ankles. She only continued to his wrists when he did not immediately lash out, and she went slower with them, one at a time, watching to gauge Mark’s reaction.

Mark was tense and strained, staring at her hands, at her face. Each time a limb was set loose he would stretch, move and wiggle it around to prove the binding was really gone. When the last one was removed, he immediately shied away from both her and Jack and curled in on himself by the pillows again. The heart rate monitor was already calming down, but the paranoia was still heavy in his face.

Jack let Mark’s wrist go as soon as the other man pulled away, biting his lip as he watched Mark curl in on himself. “See?” he said quietly, his heart breaking yet again. “He’s already calmer. He’s going to be fine. We don’t need those restraints.” He wanted to reach for Mark but he didn’t, just in case that set Mark off. The last thing they needed was the nurse to see Mark panicking. Instead, he smoothed his hand  over the blankets, tugging them back into place. “Can you go? He doesn’t like nurses very much. That’s probably why he’s not fully calm.”

The nurse still did not look convinced, but eventually she sighed. “I really shouldn’t leave you two alone. Don’t take advantage of the privilege I’m giving you both. At some point, I’m going to need to alert his doctor to the fact he’s awake and not volatile so a proper check-up can be performed. I’ll give you two some time alone for now. And remember what I said earlier.” She sent Jack a stern look. “If anything happens, you’re out. Period. If you need anything, just call me again.”

Jack nodded at everything the nurse said, giving her his very best innocent-eyed smile, perfected after years of being the youngest of five ( _I’m the baby, gotta love me!_ ). He waited until he could hear her shoes tapping down the hall and away from them before he turned back to Mark.

Mark was watching the nurse leave, and then exhaled through his nose and glanced around as if checking for another attack, not uncurling from his corner of the bed. Only after he confirmed the room was clear did he even speak again. “...sorry….” He didn’t look at Jack.

“Mark?” Jack reached out for Mark’s arm but stopped when he heard the heart rate monitor spike. Hesitating, Jack looked at those green lines and then drew back, slumping in his chair. Almost immediately, the monitor calmed. “It’s okay, Mark. She was probably more upset with me. I nearly ripped her face off this morning when I saw they’d cuffed you. You at least get the excuse of drugs. I was just pissed.”

She was also trying to keep her patient safe. Jack knew the nurse’s intentions were noble. He’d definitely make sure to bring _two_ of her favorite doughnuts tomorrow as a further apology. “You understood what she said, though, right? I mean, I know a lot of it’s out of your control, but...we gotta make sure you don’t have freak outs like that one again, or they’ll stop bending all the rules for me.”

“...I almost literally ripped her face off, though…” Mark’s guilt was evident in his voice, even without looking at Jack.

“Yeah, well...drugs are a hell of a drug, bro.” Jack watched as Mark frowned and curled up tighter, his mouth pressed into a thin line, his splinted hands tucked against his chest.

“How are you feeling now?” Mark didn’t look like he was about to go on a rage bender, and his heart rate seemed calm enough to Jack’s inexperienced eyes. It wasn’t beeping and spiking as much as it had been when Mark first woke up and realized he was restrained, at least. Even if Mark was trying to impersonate a ball… that was better than lashing out or screaming, right?

“...’m fine.”

The muttered words came along with a fresh spike in the heart rate monitor. Jack rubbed his hands through his hair and sighed. “Mark...I realize you’re still pretty heavily doped, even if you don’t have the sedation juice in your arm anymore, so...if I treat you like you’re an idiot, it’s because you’re drugged up and not because I _actually_ think you’re an idiot, okay? But a heart rate monitor like the one clipped on your finger is _basically_ kiddy’s first lie detector, so...let’s try that again?”

Even if the monitor hadn’t spiked, Jack wouldn’t have believed Mark for a minute. Not when he was curled up as small as his bandages would allow, what little of his face was visible showing abject misery.

“That’s cheating….” Mark looked almost adorable as he glared dully at Jack. The lower half of his face was hiding behind his knees now, but Jack just _knew_ how Mark would be pouting from the tone in his voice. It was almost like nothing had ever gone wrong. Almost. Entirely not like that at all.

“Sorry, Mark,” he said. “I’ll try not to pay attention to it…” It was almost easy to ignore. Jack had tuned out the rhythmic beeping days ago. It was only now that Mark was awake and his heart rate _wasn’t_ steady that things were becoming noticeable.

“Mark...I don’t want you to have a freak out like that again, okay? For all kinds of reasons, but the big one is because they’ll cuff you again and that’s just _wrong_. So...I need you to talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong, why you’re all curled up. If it’s things that I can fix...you woke up a few days back, _super_ high, and said everything was too bright. Is that still a problem? I can turn the light off. Things like that...is there anything I can do to help?” Jack dug his fingers into his knees because not reaching for Mark apparently was a thing that helped, much as Jack hated it. He wondered if there was anything else, or if Mark would fall into another one of those fits and hurt people, hurt himself.

“...it is too bright….” Mark’s words were a barely-there mumble. He burrowed deeper into his knees, squeezing his arms around his shins. Jack’s mouth snapped shut and he listened, letting Mark speak. “...it’s too loud. There’s too much noise. I can’t focus. And the room, it’s too big. I don’t know what to do with myself. All this space…. All these things…. It’s too much. I’m at a loss. And I’m exposed, and I really don’t like it, and Jack, they cuffed me. They _cuffed me,_ Jack, I didn’t _mean_ to hurt anyone, but they still did it, and I was so scared when I woke up I thought it was all just a really nice dream and I was back there with _them-_ ” Mark stopped, shuddering and then starting to cough. He sagged forward, hacking and wheezing.

“I can turn off the lights.” Jack leaned forward to better hear what Mark was saying. Too loud? “I can’t turn off any of the machines, but maybe they can turn the volume down, or get a white noise machine, or something, and maybe...maybe a smaller room? Or curtains around the bed or something?” Jack bit his lip as Mark coughed, wanting to reach out and knowing Mark would only flinch away. He rubbed his hands together, then took the blankets and tugged them up the bed with more strength than Mark would be able to manage, pulling them loose and getting them closer to Mark. “Why don’t you wrap up?” he suggested as Mark recovered his breathing, remembering how Mark had clung to his hoodie, to the blanket at his flat. Mark had been _naked_ for practically the entirety of his ordeal. Jack doubted the kidnappers gave him a blanket that they took away whenever they took out a camera. “That might help with the exposedness? I’ll get the lights.”

“You can’t do anything about the noise, I know.” Mark sounded defeated, his voice croaking out of his raw throat. “It’s just stupid, don’t worry about it. I’ll get over it… or used to it… I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. Same thing with the room, it won’t help. It’s not… it’s not the same. None of this is the same and that should be a good thing but I just can’t….” Mark noticed Jack bringing the blankets closer, his breath hitching and words dying.

Despite just saying he’d try not to pay attention to the heart rate monitor, Jack couldn’t help but notice the spike in Mark’s pulse again when his hands got too close. Mere _proximity_ was a bad thing, apparently. Jack left the blanket near Mark and got up from his chair, heading to the door.

The bed rustled as Jack flipped the light switches, followed by a clatter of rocking plastic and the slosh of water. There was enough ambient light from the monitors and windows to keep the room from being totally dark, but it immediately was much dimmer. Jack spun around to see Mark fumbling with the plastic water glass.

“Shit, sorry, I’m sorry, should have warned you I was about to flip the lights off!” Jack apologized for Mark’s clumsiness, even though he knew the sound had startled him the moment he flipped the switch and not after the room had gone dark. He returned to Mark’s side, biting back the urge to scold him for using his broken hands to help himself to some water. Surely doing things on his own had to be good for Mark, right? Maybe? And it wasn’t like he could break the plastic pitcher or cups. Mark still looked on the verge of tears, his lip wobbling as he curled around his hard-won glass of water, sipping balefully from it.

With a scowl, Mark kicked at the blanket Jack had pulled up, immediately tucking his bare legs back in against his body. “...the blanket’s wrong. I know it doesn’t make any sense, I _know_ it sounds stupid, but I don’t like it. Or this…” He picked at the hospital gown he was dressed in, his face tight. “...it’s not right. None of it’s right…. I don’t know any of it, I don’t get it, I just want…. I want….” He fell silent again, tucking in over his cup.

Jack dropped back in his seat, automatically reaching for Mark’s wrist before stopping himself, drawing his hand back to his lap. Knees it was again. “What do you want?” he asked. “I don’t think _anyone_ likes hospital gowns, but I think...I dunno, you’re kinda a special case. Maybe they can make an exception for you. Same with the blanket. Do you need a different blanket? Different _type_ of blanket? You seemed to like my fluffy one...but maybe that was just because you were totally zonked.” Jack blew out a breath of his own, trying to think of what might help Mark. “I mean, worst case scenario, I could offer to donate a ton of money to the hospital if they let you have whatever makes you feel better. Just… what do you want, Mark?”

Mark heaved a heavy sigh. “You don’t get it…. I don’t want _any_ of that, Jack. It won’t help. Nothing the hospital could do would change anything. All they can do is make sure my body heals and after that I’m…”

At a loss for words, Mark rubbed at his neck with a hand. He scratched at reddened skin, and the heart rate monitor spiked. Jack watched him intently. While he ordinarily didn’t care for cheating, once he started, he seldom found reason to stop.

“What do you _want_?” Jack asked again, hating the touch of a whine that had entered his voice. Almost as soon as he asked the question, his eyes widened, remembering the one constant that had been in dozens of photos, the one thing that never changed ever since they wrapped it around his neck.

Mark winced. His hand dropped away from his neck, and he tucked himself back in around his glass, watching Jack warily again. Jack barely noticed, his mind whirling. The dog collar was missing. And Chica’s collar had been missing, and had that actually been Chica’s real collar? Or had Mark associated it with Chica? It was pink, just like hers. Jack didn’t know where the collar was, but he suspected it was in the hands of the police, as evidence.

“Was that Chica’s collar?” Jack asked. “What if I got that back for you? Would that help?” He felt like he was grasping at straws, connecting a spiking heart rate and a neck rubbing to something that Mark probably hated...unless it had really been Chica’s. Then it would have been a connection to his life that he probably had clung to. “Or...or anything from your house? Tyler is looking after everything for you. He overnighted me your glasses, so I’m sure he could get you anything else you might want…”

The heart rate monitor yelped as Mark’s whole body went rigid. Mark barely had pushed his empty glass away before he was burying his face into his knees, whimpering softly in pain. Jack bit his lip at the strength of that reaction. Grasping at straws had somehow found something. Jack wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep pulling or leave it alone.

Mark offered him the barest of hints, whispered in a hoarse voice from behind knobby knees. He turned his head just enough so he could be heard, brown eyes boring into Jack’s.

“...it was _my_ collar….”

Mark’s face was always so expressive, and now it was tight with emotion. _His_ collar? Why specify _his_ and not Chica’s? Was it because he had worn it so long? But still, Chica had worn it longer. Unless it wasn’t her collar at all, and just a facsimile. Weren’t some collars designed to pop open if they got caught on something? Maybe Chica just lost hers.

Jack worried his lip between his teeth, watching Mark and feeling like he was standing on the edge of a precipice. One misstep, and it wouldn’t be him falling into the despair behind those dark eyes. Jack wished that weren’t the case. He could get upset. He wasn’t sure Mark could weather an emotional storm right now.

“...would it help?”

Shock. Pure shock filled Mark’s face, chased by _relief_ , as he lifted his cheek off his knees and gaped at Jack in surprise. He looked like he was trying to speak, but the words were failing him. Instead, Mark closed his mouth and hesitantly gave a tiny nod.

He was still curled up, but the tension was already draining from Mark’s body. Jack’s _Why?_ withered and died in his throat. The heart rate monitor settled down, after having been ramping up, and Jack couldn’t stop himself from glancing over at it, then guiltily back at Mark for already obviously betraying his promise to try to ignore it.

“You’re cheating again….” Mark’s voice was still soft and ragged, but it didn’t sound quite so _raw_ anymore. He almost sounded like he was teasing. Almost.

“Sorry,” Jack repeated as Mark called him out on his cheating. “You know how it is, once you’ve started using console commands, it’s hard to stop.”

Mark didn’t laugh, or even smile. He didn’t frown either, though. Jack rubbed at the back of his head nervously, dropping the joke and returning to the topic at hand: Mark’s collar. “I don’t know where it is,” he admitted. Mark’s heart rate started to climb, and Jack was quick to try to soothe him. “But it’s not gone, it can’t be. It’s probably the same place my hoodie is. If the nurses don’t have it somewhere around here, I’m sure the police do. I can go tonight to check...damn, no, the garda station will be closed. I could go...I could go _now_ , I suppose...they want a doctor to check on you anyway, and they always kick me out of the room if they’re examining you. I could get the doctor to look at you now and go find it? If that’s what you want, I mean. I can stay if you want. If you don’t want to be alone.” His words seemed to have helped. Mark was already calming down.

Jack took a deep breath, angling a tired smile at Mark. “Just...anything I can do to help, okay? All you gotta do is let me know. I’m a boss and all that, but I’m not a mind reader, even though I’m trying my best.”

Mark kept looking at him, at his face, at his smile, and Jack felt his eyes burning again. A _smile_ should not be that unfamiliar. Not to _Markiplier_. Jack almost jumped when Mark started talking again, the words stilted and awkward.

“...if you could get it back, it would help…. It would…. I can… I can deal with the doctor, on my own…. I’d rather you went to find it while you still can… please…. It’s just… it’s important. To me. I’d… I’d appreciate it, so much….”

“I’ll go now,” Jack said. Those were the most words Mark had spoken at once that sounded so genuine and strained, and Jack interpreted the struggle Mark had to get them out as meaning that they were important.

Mark’s hand shifted, crooked fingers falling into Jack’s field of vision, and he looked up at that hand, so swollen and discolored. He swallowed, his own fingers twitching. “Just...just remember that this isn’t a dream, okay? I _will_ come back. And I’ll have your collar. And maybe some coffee and a doughnut, because nobody said I can’t bring you food, right? Also, Mr. Doughnutman knows me on sight.”

Mark nodded quietly. “That sounds… pretty good. I guess tell Mr. Doughnutman hi for me….”

Mark had no idea who Mr. Doughnutman was, though Jack supposed the name painted on the side of the man’s little shop was fairly self-explanatory. His heart ached, and he reached out to meet Mark’s offered hand, brushing his fingers over Mark’s. The heart rate monitor spiked, but Jack resolutely ignored it. No cheating.

Mark sucked in a breath, his hand twitching, but he didn’t pull away. Jack snuck a glance up to see Mark staring at their hands. Slowly, the heart rate monitor calmed down. “Mr. Doughnutman makes the best doughnuts,” Jack said, wondering if nattering on would help Mark relax the rest of the way. “And I say that having had your sugary monstrosities of Krispy Kremes stuffed in my face. By you, if I recall correctly. And Wade. And Bob. And they are _delicious_ , but you have not lived, my friend, until you’ve had Irish doughnuts. Or Irish coffee. Not the spiked kind.”

As Jack spoke, Mark slowly turned his splinted hand over. Their fingertips brushed together, the most intentional touch Mark had given Jack in over three months. His whole arm tingled warmly at the contact, and Jack’s secret ally slowed its beeping even further. When Jack snuck another look up, Mark’s face was doing the expression equivalent of a calmer heart rate, and he looked almost relaxed. _I’ll go for the collar in a bit,_ Jack decided, loosely curling his fingers against Mark’s as he kept talking.

“They’re just little doughnuts, but he makes them fresh, and he rolls them in powdered sugar or cinnamon sugar or you can forgo the sugar if you’re really insane or diabetic. I’ve been bringing tons of them to the nurses here, buttering them up for days so they like me. Gotta build my cred with them for when I try to break the rules, like coming in before visiting hours technically start, and staying way past when they’re over. Nurses are like anyone else, really. Bring them food and they’ll try to do whatever they can for you.” It was easy to keep rambling. Years of YouTube had enabled Jack to spend entire hours discussing absolutely nothing more than fluff. Jack wasn’t about to spoil this moment he was having with Mark for anything, though. Certainly not for running out of words. Mark was making an odd snuffling sound though, not a cough, not a wheeze, but…

But a snore? Mark...fell asleep? Mark fell asleep, holding Jack’s hand. Jack let his words taper off, watching Mark’s face relax, and then reached up with his free hand to wipe the fresh tears away from his face. He could go get the collar now...or he could stay here with Mark, hold his hand while he slept, and watch Mark _actually_ sleep, and not just be asleep in a drugged stupor.

Jack shifted in the chair, pulling his legs up and resting his chin on his knees. The collar could wait. He didn’t want Mark to wake up without him again.

  
  


Jack knew he wasn’t the brightest man around, but he wasn’t actually stupid. Just because he hadn’t gone to college for a biomedical engineering degree didn’t mean he was dumb. It was one of the few things he really _hated_ about how close his channel was to Mark’s: if he played a game after Mark, his comments filled up with things like “OMG, MARK PLAYED IT BETTER!” and “You’re so stupid, Mark figured this out WAY faster!”

Mark didn’t even _have_ a college degree. Jack did. Granted, it was in something completely stupid, but _still._ Degreed Jack, college dropout Mark. Not that Jack ever blamed Mark for those comments. Mark never made Jack feel dumb, and Jack knew that a lot of Mark’s ‘quicker’ solutions were really just down to their different editing styles.

All that aside, Jack had never felt like a bigger idiot than when he hustled back to the hospital as quickly as he could manage without dropping his gifts of doughnuts and caffeine. _Check the police station first_ , he’d thought. _They’re gonna close at five._

The police didn’t have Mark’s collar. It was at the hospital, along with Jack’s hoodie, as Mark’s ‘personal effects.’ The collar, like Mark himself, had been scrubbed clean of any sort of evidence from the room. The tarp and duct tape were more promising leads. Jack had gone all the way across town for nothing.

Not completely for nothing. He had managed to get coffee and doughnuts, enough for both Mark and the nurses on staff and another few doughnuts for whomever might have the collar and power to release it. A handful of sugary bribes later, and Jack was tapping at Mark’s door before pushing it open, hesitantly looking inside and fearing the worst. How would Mark have fared while he was gone, with a strange man checking in on him?

Jack cringed when he saw Mark curled up on the bed, staring vacantly at the wall in front of him, dead-eyed and still. It was almost as bad as when Jack had first found him, wrapped in that godforsaken tarp. _Almost_. Mark was clean and clothed and dry, and so this was better. Barely. It was better enough that Jack did not have a complete breakdown. He merely sniffed, wiped his eyes, and took a deep breath.

“Mark?” Jack was glad the doctor had listened to him about keeping the room dim. The lights were still off, and the blinds had been closed. Good. The doctor would be an ally for Jack in his fight to keep Mark sane. “Mark, I’m back. Are you awake?” He talked slowly, trying to thicken his accent again, approaching Mark from where Mark was staring. Mark’s eyes were open. He wasn’t actually asleep. Jack wasn’t bothering to be quiet. “Mark, I’ve got you presents…”

Mark didn’t respond, not at first. He continued to lie still in the bed. His arm stirred first, hand lifting to rub at his neck. He paused, body still but heart rate monitor beeps increasing, before Mark rolled over to face Jack with a grimace of pain. His dark eyes swept over Jack’s body, focusing on his hands. Jack knew the moment Mark recognized the collar, even without his glasses on. The heart rate monitor abruptly spiked, and Mark was frozen again, but only for a moment. He was soon moving again, pushing himself up, one hand reaching out for the pink nylon strap...and then he froze again. His face went white, and he snatched his hand back, expression going blank again. He was staring hungrily at the collar though, watching _it_ instead of Jack.

“Yeah, I found it.” Jack forced a smile even as he hated the fear in Mark’s eyes as Mark pulled away from him. He dropped the doughnut bag from his hand and reached forward. He didn’t offer the collar to Mark, though. Mark had only been awake for a couple hours, and Jack was already figuring some things out, things that had only been hinted at through photos and silent videos, but Mark’s new quirks were starting to show.

Jack set the collar down on the bed near Mark and gave it a nudge closer before pulling his hand back. He turned to the side, busying himself with setting down the coffees and popping the lids off, deliberately turning his attention away from Mark. That fear in Mark’s eyes, combined with the open desire on his face...Mark had been offered things and hurt for accepting them, Jack suspected. Mark had been afraid Jack would hurt him. Jack grit his teeth and focused on preparing his own coffee, wishing life was like Scooby Doo and he could track down the kidnappers, yank off their masks, and punch them square in their faces.

“I just got you black, but I got cream and sugar too. Wasn’t sure if you were up for fully loaded just yet. Figured we can always add stuff, but we can’t take it out if it’s too much.” He gave his coffee a stir and tasted the spoon. Perfect. As perfect as coffee could be, with his best friend afraid Jack was about to beat him. Jack set the spoon down quickly before Mark could notice his hands were shaking.

Jack was staring at his coffee to ignore the beeping of the heart rate monitor, to give Mark some privacy. He squeezed his eyes shut, listening to the soft rustle of Mark moving on the bed, the tiny clink of the metal tag against the metal ring that held it on. He envisioned kicking the kidnappers in the nads, then ripping their dicks off and shoving them down their own throats, then kicking them again. It didn’t bring him much satisfaction. He pressed his hands flat against the little table and took a deep breath, and then another. _Calm down. Mark won’t realize you’re not mad at him._

Mark’s heart rate was picking up, and Jack forced himself to let his anger out. He could hate them at night, when he was alone in his flat and screaming into his pillow. Right now, they didn’t deserve even a second thought.

“Jack……”

By the time Mark whimpered and whined his name, Jack had managed to calm down enough to risk opening his eyes. He forced a smile again before turning to look at his friend. “Yes Mark... _Jesus…_!”

Mark was trying to put the collar on. Mark was trying to _wear_ Chica’s collar, the collar he’d been bound with for _months_. He was trying to put it on and failing with his bandaged hands, and...and…

Mark flinched, ducking his head and dropping his gaze, every inch a kicked puppy pleading for a scrap of affection. His broken hands clutched at the collar, even as his shoulders hunched, bracing for pain.

 _No, Mark, no, you’re not in that room, you don’t need to wear that,_ ** _you’re not a dog_** _…_ Jack wondered if his heart would ever stop breaking, fragmenting and shattering into smaller and smaller pieces.

Thank god for YouTube, and for the attention his fans begged for from him. So many wrote to Jack to tell him about their struggles, their challenges, and how he had helped them overcome dark periods of their lives. So many fans came up to him for hugs at conventions, whispering their thanks into his neck or shoulder. So many comments on his more serious videos about anxiety attacks, depression, or god, _That Dragon, Cancer_ , expressed their gratitude to Jack for taking the subjects seriously, for bothering to learn about the illnesses and treating them respectfully.

Mark was trying to put the collar on, and Jack knew from all of the reading he had done on various mental disorders that trying to convince him he didn’t need it would be a losing battle right now. Mark was very damaged. He needed to heal the truly devastating injuries before he could begin to heal the more minor ones, like his dependency on Chica’s collar around his throat.

Jack took a deep breath, twisting his fingers together. “Mark...would you...would you like me to help you with that?” There was a tremor to his voice, but Jack powered through it, trying to soften his expression as much as he could, for Mark’s sake. He had said he would do anything for the other man, as long as it was within his power. Surely he could put a collar around Mark’s neck.

Mark tipped his head back toward Jack at the offer, a hopeful expression flickering into his eyes. If he had a tail, it would be wagging. Nausea churned in Jack’s belly as Mark nodded silently, enthusiastically. He set the collar on the bed and hunkered down, nudging it toward Jack with his nose. _With his fucking nose_.

Mark was gone. Jack watched in horror as Mark nosed the collar back towards him, then sat back up, begging, _begging_ , like a fucking _dog_ … He had one hand lifted, his head tilted back, exposing his neck, his neck rubbed raw from being collared… There was a distant ringing in Jack’s ears, his head spinning at the full realization. He grabbed the bed rail to keep from falling over. His heart was pulverized into dust, leaving a sharp and empty void within his chest.

Jack knew Mark had been treated like a dog in that room. He had seen the progression, as Mark was collared and leashed, fed from bowls with DOG painted on the side, never standing in any of the pictures, gloved hands petting his hair and back in mockery of the affection Mark would shower on Chica. Jack knew the dog treatment had been there, but he hadn’t realized...he hadn’t realized how _severe_ it had been. How thorough. _Did they hurt you if you didn’t beg for them?_ Jack wondered as he stared at Mark. _Or did you start begging in hopes that it would get them to stop hurting you?_ He didn’t know if that was an answer he wanted to hear. He didn’t ask.

Brainwashing. Jack was going to have to google brainwashing tonight, and how to deal with it, how to reverse it. Cold turkey probably wasn’t the answer. Mark was lost right now. Those bright eyes, that fucking _hunger_ on his face...anything other than putting the collar on Mark would only stress Mark further. Jack took a deep breath, fully aware he was crying again and not even trying to wipe away his tears.

“...okay.” He could barely whisper the word as he reached down for the pink collar, his shaking hands setting the tag to jingling. “Okay, I can do this for you. I can…” Play along. Participate in the dark fantasy. Jack set the collar around Mark’s exposed neck, sliding his fingers back to the clasp.

_Be as bad as them._

“Nope, nope, nuh-uh, not happening, nope…” Jack pulled back, shaking violently. “Mark I can’t, I can’t do this to you, I can’t…” He couldn’t look at Mark’s face, didn’t want to see the confusion or hurt there...or worse, _fear_. Jack didn’t want to see if Mark was scared that he wasn’t going to get collared. “I’ll...I can get one of the nurses to do it, I’ll get the collar on you, I just, I can’t do it myself, I just…” He tried to choke back a sob, having only half success, as he turned toward the door, clenching the collar in his hands. The nurse would…

The nurse would not understand. Jack stood there, breathing shallowly, staring at the door. Oh, she meant well, but she hadn’t seen the three months of pictures. She knew Mark had been kidnapped and held prisoner for three months, but she still cuffed him. Still resisted removing the cuffs. She wouldn’t understand why Mark _needed_ the collar, she’d just see the reddened skin on his neck and refuse to irritate it further.

Jack looked back at Mark, at his broken face. He hadn’t moved from his begging position. _She won’t do this for you._ He tried to take a deep breath. It shuddered against his ribs. He took another one. Little better. Not much.

“You’re not a dog, Mark,” Jack whispered, turning back to his friend. He lifted the collar up, placed it around Mark’s neck. His hands were still shaking, and he was sure the horror was still scratched deep into his face, but Jack forced himself to find the clasp, feeding the collar through it. “You’re not a dog, and you don’t _need_ to wear this. I’m not going to punish you for it. Nobody is. But...but if you _want_ to wear it...I can help you with that. If you _want_ to. And if you want to take it off, I can help you with that too.”

Jack tucked the long end of the collar into the loops to hold it out of the way, then slid two fingers beneath it to make sure it wasn’t too tight around Mark’s neck before pulling back, his face wet with tears. Mark was mouthing gratitude at him, but he wasn’t voicing his thanks. Small mercy. Jack was fairly sure he’d shatter completely if Mark actually thanked him.

As Jack moved to pull away, Mark tilted his head and caught Jack’s retreating hand with his face, making Jack’s fingers stroke over his cheekbone and down his sunken face. Jack's whole mind stuttered as Mark nuzzled against his hand. Mark’s eyes were closed almost blissfully as he nosed at Jack’s wrist, his hair brushing against Jack’s fingers, his cheek rubbing into Jack’s touch like a dog, a damn _dog_. A sob tore free of Jack’s chest, deep and wounded, and he jerked back, shoving his fist into his mouth and biting a knuckle. _No, Mark, no, you're not, I'm not…_

“I'm sorry,” Jack whispered around his fingers, his voice cracking and breaking, his composure as shattered as his heart. “I'm sorry, Mark, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry.”

He wanted to run. He wanted to scream. He wanted to puke. He _was_ crying, trying so hard not to keep sobbing, to at least keep quiet as his tears spilled freely down his face.

Jack took a step back so Mark _couldn't_ reach him from the bed, shaking and shivering. He needed a minute, just a minute...

Comprehension was slowly returning to Mark’s face. He reached up, curling his fingers around the dog tags, stammering out words. “...Jack…. Jack, I… I’m….” Mark fidgeted with the metal and bit at his lip as his gaze dropped off to the side. “I… I’m sorry, Jack, I… I just thought…. I thought it’d help, I’m…. I’m not….”

Jack pulled off his glasses, wiping at his face with his sleeve, little hiccuping sobs still fighting their way out. _No, no, stop it, you have to stop it, Mark needs you to stop crying right now…_ Mark was looking at Jack with horror. Horror was good. Vacant, dead-eyed stare was bad. Horror at least showed that it was _Mark_ behind the controls, and not some creepy autopilot designed to protect him, sculpted by those insane bastards. Jack hiccuped again, shoving his glasses back on and peering blearily at the other man.

“Are you...are you...is it better? Wearing it, does it...help?” He choked out the question, not looking at the heart rate monitor, just looking at Mark, at _Mark_ , the man he had fucking collared like an _animal_ , who had _begged_ him for it...Jack could still feel the material of the collar against his fingers, contrasting with the smoothness of Mark’s skin, the cold clasp and the warm life beneath. He rubbed his hands on his sleeves, trying to brush off the memory from his fingertips. It didn’t work. Jack didn’t know if it would _ever_ be gone.

But Mark had the collar on and he was back and not so dead inside anymore. Had the collar done that? Had it helped? Because if it had helped...Jack rubbed his sleeve against his cheeks again. He was going to need to supply this hospital room with a box of tissues at this rate. So much for staying strong for Mark.

“I’m not….” Mark hesitated, then approached a different way. “...yeah. Yeah, it helps. I… I have a focal point, now. I guess would be the simplest way to describe it? It’s hard.” He fidgeted with the tags, searching for words. “It’s… grounding. I feel more secure, with it on. Like I did in the…” Mark cleared his throat, struggling through. “...it was there for me. Now it can be again. I really… really needed this, Jack….” Mark finally looked back at Jack. Through Jack’s tears, he could see Mark’s mouth twitch _up_ , a tiny crinkle in the corner of his eyes, the faintest shadow of one of his infamous smiles. “Thank you….”

“Okay…” Jack was still shivering, still rubbing his hands against his arms, but Mark was trying. Mark was _trying_ to smile, and Jack knew the collar wouldn’t make everything better, but if it was helping Mark even a little, if it was grounding him, like Mark said… “Okay. So. Um. Okay. You’re…” He couldn’t say it, couldn’t say _you’re welcome_ , couldn’t accept Mark’s gratitude for helping enslave him again. “Your doughnuts. I brought you both types with sugar, because you could use the sweetening up, and they’re both delicious anyway, I can’t pick between them, and really, they’re best warm so we should probably eat them now…” Jack was babbling, distracting himself with the brown bag left at the edge of Mark’s bed. He eased himself closer, forcing every step, and pulled the bag open. Trying for the coffee right now would be a disaster with how badly his hands were shaking, but Jack figured he could at least give Mark a doughnut. Dogs didn’t eat doughnuts.

...well, dogs _did_ , depending on the dog and the whippedness of the owner, but dogs like Mark had been did not eat doughnuts. Humans ate doughnuts, ate them with their fingers and got powdered sugar dusting their fingers and mustaches. The bag crinkled beneath Jack’s fingers as he tugged it open, pulling out some napkins and laying them out on the sheets before dumping the doughnuts onto the makeshift plate and ignoring the threat of crumbs. It was a hospital. Someone else would change the sheets.

“So, um, brown ones are cinnamon sugar, and white ones aren’t, and just...yeah. Help yourself. Have as many as you want. I got them for us to share, but I already had some this morning when I came in and you were still asleep, so…” Jack picked up a doughnut and shoved it in his mouth before he could keep talking, before he made things worse.

Mark turned his attention to the doughnuts before him, slowly releasing the collar and reaching for the food instead. He picked up a brown one, immediately dusting his fingers with a miniature explosion of cinnamon-sugar. They were bite-sized and easy for him to handle with his damaged fingers.

Before taking a bite, Mark brought the doughnut to his nose and just sniffed it. That left a little dusting of powder on the tip of his nose, and Mark had to turn away quickly to sneeze. There was a touch of redness in his cheeks as he turned back to the treat and gave it a little lick. His eyes flicked to Jack, then he blushed deeper and shoved the doughnut in his mouth.

About three chews in, Mark completely froze. _They didn’t give you food,_ Jack realized as he watched Mark savor the little doughnut, swallowing his own thickly. Mark started to chew again, slowly, clearly savoring the taste and _feel_ of the doughnut in his mouth. He took forever before he swallowed, and then he lifted his powdered fingers to his throat, tracing a line down to his stomach. With that same look of rapture on his face, Mark lifted his fingers to his lips and just touched them to his mouth. Then his lips started to tremble, and then the rest of his body. Mark ducked forward a bit with a hitched breath, fighting off sobs. When he managed to get himself under control again, he grabbed at one of the white doughnuts and shoved it in his mouth.

Jack remained silent for the entire ordeal. Mark looked so awed and stunned, and while yes, these were some of the best doughnuts in the world and Jack would go to his grave defending their superiority over their American brethren, they weren’t tear-inducing.

Unless you’d spent three months eating slop out of dog bowls. Jack had seen the pictures, the videos, Mark’s hands tied behind his back, forced to eat face-first in a bowl. He had hoped they had been staged, one-offs just for the shock and horror of the photo shoots, but with how doglike Mark was acting about everything else, Jack knew that treatment had continued even when the cameras were off. Everything Jack had seen that he had hoped was just for show…

 _It never stopped for you. You never had a respite._ Jack picked up another doughnut and ate it, licking his fingers intently in the hopes of letting Mark know what was okay. Powdery foods like sugar-coated doughnuts or Doritos were _meant_ to get fingers licked clean afterwards. That wasn’t animalistic, it was just delicious.

“ _Told_ you Irish doughnuts are best doughnuts,” Jack said, as if Mark’s breakdown over the little balls of fried dough was perfectly understandable. “You Americans think you’ve cornered the market on fried foods, but nope. You don’t hold a candle to us. Or the Scots. I’ll give ‘em that.”

Mark actually laughed. The sound was rough and quiet and triggered a few small coughs, but it had been unmistakable. He looked back up at Jack with tears still prickling his eyes and nothing but positive emotions on his face, for once. He stuck his own powdered fingers into his mouth after Jack did, humming happily as he sucked on the sweetness.

Jack gave a little huff and a smile himself at Mark’s laugh, his grin growing as Mark licked his fingers and inhaled another doughnut.

“All right, all right, I concede. They’re delicious.” Mark’s voice shook, but he wasn’t crying. He was still eating doughnut after doughnut.

Jack flexed his fingers and glanced over at the coffee. “Want to try to drink something? They should be cool enough now that they won’t scald.” And Jack’s hands were steadier. He should be able to hold a cup without shaking it all over Mark’s lap.

Mark eyed the cups warily, swallowing his last doughnut. “I… yeah. Okay. Coffee, right? You didn’t dump a bunch of Irish cream in there or Bailey’s or something, did you? I may be in a hospital already but it’s no real excuse to trigger my intolerance….” The joke fell flat, but Mark still made little grabby hands for the container.

Jack had to smile and play along. “Nah, I know you’ve got the wussiest liver in Ireland. I made sure yours was as black as...as black as...as black as Felix’s soul. Brought you cream and sugar and stuff if you wanted to try it, but figured we’d start plain.”

“Hey now. For your information, I have the wussiest liver in the _world._ Not just Ireland. Get over yourself, _laddie._ ”

Turning back to the coffees, Jack popped the lid on the black one and moved closer to Mark, holding it in his hands. “If it’s okay with you, though...I’d like to be the one holding it. I mean, it’s just, your hands are still pretty plastic, and I don’t want you to get a lapful of coffee because you’re not able to bend your fingers fully. You can, like, guide it and stuff, and I’ll just hold the weight of it so we don’t drop it. Is that okay?”

Crumbs in the bedsheets were one thing, but Jack had a suspicion that the nurses would _not_ be happy if he spilled coffee all over Mark and the bed. He wasn’t sure how Mark would take it either, if he’d need to change his gown, make himself vulnerable by being naked again.

Mark pouted at him but didn’t fight. He covered Jack’s sticky fingers with his own splinted ones and tugged the coffee closer. Jack supported the cup but otherwise let Mark control it, angling it up to take a sip and lowering it when he was done. He smiled again at the light in Mark’s eyes, the way Mark was touching his fingers without his heart rate monitor spiking off again. The collar incident was pushed back in Jack’s mind, buried under every little smile that didn’t quite reach Mark’s mouth, every little step forward he took in distancing himself from the dog he’d been turned into. Jack knew it would dredge itself up tonight when he lay in his bed in the too-empty flat, listening to the wind and rain outside and remembering _that night_ and how Mark had looked, felt...now a collar in his hands would be added to his horror compilation.

Mark shivered against Jack’s arm and took a bigger sip, then sighed. “It’s good…. But some cream would be nice. It’s a little too close to Felix for me.” He frowned slightly at the mention of the Swede. “...how are they, anyway? Our… our friends. Felix, Bob, Wade, the Grumps…. They’re okay, right?? Nothing’s happened to them?”

“Everyone’s fine,” Jack said as he took the cup back, popping the lid and stirring in some creamer. He remembered how Mark had liked his coffee from before, he just hadn’t wanted to assume that nothing had changed. “Everyone’s been missing you something horrible. They’ve all been worried. Felix was Skyping with me when I found you, so I asked him to tweet that you were still alive. I’ve...kind of kept them updated on how you were doing, but not in any detail or anything like that. Told them you were out of it. I actually haven’t told anyone you’ve woken up yet.” Jack licked his lips, tapping the spoon on the side of the cup and setting it aside, putting the lid back in place. “I need to. I promised your family I’d let them know the moment you were awake. They wanted to fly out here to sit with you, but I convinced them not to.” Jack bit his lip and glanced over at Mark, wondering how Mark would take that admission. “I didn’t want them sitting around while you just slept. I figured you should at least be awake enough to appreciate their presence. Your mother has some very vulgar Korean. I didn’t let her know I understood what she was calling me…”

He offered the coffee back to Mark to try again, hoping Mark wasn’t too upset at the executive decisions Jack had made while he was unconscious. “I have my laptop and iPad with me. If you wanted to, we could try giving them a call…”

“Oh….” Mark sounded a bit surprised, but largely relieved. “You should let them know, after we’re done eating. They’re probably still worried…. I’ll have to contact them soon.” He cleared his throat and sipped some more at the coffee before sighing again.. “After some stuff that’s happened, I… think that wasn’t exactly a bad idea... telling them not to come…. I don’t doubt they’ve already seen the… I just, wouldn’t want them to… to see stuff, firsthand, how I….” At a loss for the proper words, Mark gestured vaguely in an attempt to convey what he meant. How he had panicked. Jack understood perfectly.

“...maybe, we can try, after you let the others know I’m okay? I mean, we’d need to check time zones, I don’t even know what time it is _here._ We can’t just call them if it’s like four o’clock in the morning….”

“Yeah,” Jack murmured, looking down at the coffee. “Yeah, I...you were _so_ out of it that first day, Mark. I don’t think you even knew it was me. I didn’t...I didn’t want you to not recognize _them_.” _And I didn’t want to share you. Not after waiting ninety days to get you back. Not even with your family._

“Yeah… yeah, I… I sort of figured….” Mark looked away, and Jack cleared his throat, casting around for another topic.

“Your channel’s doing okay. I mean, yeah, you get idiots posting on your old videos about how they’re unsubscribing because you haven’t posted anything new, but most comments are all just overwhelmingly supportive. They overflow onto all of our channels too.” He took a deep breath, already suspecting he knew what Mark’s reaction to the next bit of YouTube news would be.

“I, um…I took a hiatus.”

Jack _never_ took a hiatus. In all his years of YouTubing, the only time he had ever missed an upload was when his power went out. Unlike Mark, who flew by the seat of his pants, Jack always made sure his channel was well-prepared and covered in the event of just about anything. He had prepped a week’s worth of videos for dealing with Mark’s return, but that had run out yesterday. Last night, Jack had recorded a vlog explaining that he was still very busy with Mark’s recovery and didn’t have the time to dedicate to proper recordings. He’d rather go on hiatus than post crappy, exhausted videos, as much as he hated to do so...but he had to. Mark’s health came before the channel’s, as much as Jack hated to say it.

Mark nearly choked at the news, but Jack barreled on. “Announced it this morning, actually. So far, reactions have been positive. Everyone wants you to get better.” Jack shook his head. “Aside from saying you’re alive, in Ireland, and in very bad health, I haven’t shared _any_ details with people who don’t know your Skype name. We’ve all been trying to keep things as quiet as possible. It’s...it’s sucked, really. It’s not just the internet clamoring to know how you’re doing. There were reporters and shit. I had to hide my hair to get past them. They’ve pretty much petered out, though. New scandals and all that.”

Jack shifted his hold on the coffee cup to just one hand to help himself to another doughnut. “We _will_ have to call your family today, though. Your brother made it pretty clear what he’d do to me if I didn’t. In English. If we put it off, _you_ get to take responsibility for it. I don’t want his rage coming down on me!”

Mark leaned away from the coffee to regain his breath, frowning at Jack. “Wait a second. _You?_ A hiatus? I… Jack… did you do this because of- you didn’t need to. Jack, you don’t need to change anything for me. It’s already crazy how much you have to deal with, just because I happen to be here in Ireland instead of home, because the people that kidnapped me got a kick out of dumping me on the doorstep- no, wait, I didn’t even get _that_ courtesy, it was a fucking dumpster- of the second half of a made up ship! It’s not fair to _you._ I don’t want to hold you back….”

Mark shook his head. “And you’ve had to deal with reporters and stuff on top of it?? Fuck damn it, Jack, you shouldn’t have to contend with any of that! I’m the one that fucked up, they should be bothering me. I’m...” He ducked his head and floofed his hair, forgetting his fingers were covered in sugar and smearing it everywhere. “I’m sorry…. That I caused all of this to happen…You’ve even been fielding stuff from my family. You didn’t have to do that, but you did. You haven’t had to do _any_ of this, but you did, and you just… fuck, Jack, you’re too damn good for me….” Mark buried his head in his arms, rocking back and forth.

“I sent you away, Mark,” Jack said quietly. He set the coffee back on the table: obviously Mark was not about to drink anymore anytime soon. “That night, I...if you’d stayed with us, you would have been safe.” _Safer_. “I sent you to your room. _I_ did. I…” Jack curled his arms around his stomach, squeezing his eyes shut. “Mark...I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You have no idea. I would’ve...I would’ve done _anything_ to get you out of there. I thought they were gonna kill you.” _I wanted them to…_

He was crying again. Dammit. Jack wriggled one arm up to wipe at his eyes in frustration. “Mark, I doubt I’d be much good for YouTube right now even if you hadn’t been dumped here. It’s not _your_ fault I took a hiatus. It’s something that’s been coming for a long time, anyway. I haven’t taken a break in years. It’s for the best, really.” Ha, yeah, as if Mark would believe that. Jack certainly didn’t. None of his community did. “I’m hardly too good for you. I’m just...I’m all you’ve got right now, while you’re here, and I don’t...I don’t want to disappoint you. Screw things up more than I already have.”

“It’s not your fault, Jack.” Mark was peeking up through his arms at Jack. “I could’ve stayed there with you. I could’ve asked someone to leave with me. I should’ve known something was wrong, when I ended up so tired. I should’ve guessed something was up because I was almost more drunk than you guys, and you were the ones _actually_ drinking. But we were stupid- _I_ was stupid. We didn’t take the risk seriously enough and had to deal with the consequences. Do I regret my choices that night? Hell yeah I do. And I’ve already accepted the fact it’s my own fault. So don’t beat yourself up about it, because you’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

 _I wished you were dead,_ Jack thought, silent as he let Mark ramble as he had always been prone to do. Whether it be in a vlog or on a convention stage, in a live stream or meeting with fans, Mark had a tendency to start talking and never stop, just like Jack. It was a miracle their conversations were as two-sided as they were. _I checked that website every day, clicked on every picture, watched every video. I drove up that damn hit counter, knowing it would hurt you, to check if it had killed you yet. Three months, I didn’t shed a tear for you. I only talked about you twice on the channel. I knew the location of every cut on your skin, every touch from their gloves. Don’t tell me I’m innocent here._

_I sent you away._

As Mark had pointed out, Mark _had_ seemed more drunk than the others. Not that Jack really knew what a drunk Mark was actually like. He had met the other man too late, and old episodes of Drunk Minecraft were hardly the same. But Mark had barely been able to walk out of that room, and Jack had _sent him away_. He should have called for help, or at the very least kept an eye on Mark. Rule one of drinking, you don’t let one of your mates wander off when they’re that wasted.

“I know you would’ve helped if you could, Jack. I know you, and everyone else, must have done everything in their power to help…. And even if I don’t know it all, I appreciate it. I do. Just knowing you guys are still here for me after everything… it means a lot. And I’m not dead. They didn’t kill me- though they could have, when they dumped me. You prevented that, Jack. _You._ And I’ll always be so grateful….” Mark’s voice cracked, but he swallowed hard and kept talking.

“You don’t have to lie to me, about Youtube. I _know_ you took the hiatus because of me. You don’t believe in breaks, Jack. It’s not your style. You’ve been going full tilt with your channel since it really started growing. If you put it on hold for something… it would have to be seriously important to you.” Mark cleared his throat and powered on before Jack could issue a rebuttal. “You may be all I have here, but I wouldn’t want anyone else…. Of course I want my family. But if they can’t be here, if I had to pick any other person, it would be you. And you have no idea how relieved I was to wake up… to you… and not them….”

Scooting forward with a slight wince, Mark curled the fingers of his better hand around the bed rail. He reached out with his other hand, leaning over the edge of the bed to catch the sleeve of Jack’s shirt and tug. “You aren’t a disappointment. You’re _human._ And humans… humans make mistakes. Humans screw up. Humans- and we’re a prime example of this, Jack, we’ve said so before- are _stupid._ And that’s okay. Because humans try, too. And they don’t give up. And you haven’t given up on me, and _I_ haven’t given up on me- or you. So… meet me in the middle, yeah?”

Jack found _a_ smile for Mark, the same sort of forced smile he pulled out for his videos these past three months. “Okay, yeah, you are important enough to cause a hiatus. It’s not like I can record gameplay here, and hospitals aren’t the most conducive to vlogs. I don’t have enough time left when I get back to record and upload, so...the channel will still be there for me if I set it down for a week or two. It’s only a hiatus while you’re here, while I’m here with you. So, yes. Fine. It _is_ your fault. So get better so we can get you out of here, okay? And don’t...don’t go thinking I’m something that I’m not. You’re my best friend, Mark, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to screw you up. You’ve only been awake a handful of hours. So far, all I’ve managed to do correctly is get coffee and doughnuts.” _And technically not even that, since I went way out of my way to get a collar that was here the whole time._

“Speaking of which,” Jack said, clearing his throat in a pathetic attempt to change the subject, “did you want any more? Coffee?”

Mark tugged a bit more emphatically at Jack’s shirt and leaned further over the bed rail. “Jack. You know that’s not true. You’ve done so much more than just get me some food, you-”

Jack looked at Mark, still refusing to release his share of the blame for what had happened, when the bed rail folded beneath Mark and he toppled forward. Mark’s words were sucked down his throat as he fell, tugging tubes and wires with him. Immediately, Jack lunged for him, getting beneath Mark’s body and breaking his fall, managing to keep him from tumbling off the bed. “Oh my god, Mark, are you okay!?” Jack straightened up, helping Mark get back on the bed, suddenly aware of how thoughtlessly he had grabbed his friend, heedless of where Mark was injured and how little Mark liked to be touched.

_Way to prove my point. Screw everything up, even the right things…_

Cringing and twitching back on the bed, Mark coughed and fumbled for his glasses. “I… ‘m fine… ‘m okay, I… nngh… fuck…. Wh-who the Hell invented… such a piece of shit system…?! I could have died. I could’ve… could’ve broken my face, ‘cause someone doesn’t… know how to lock a thing, Jack. You saw that right?? You saw that stupid? I-” Mark coughed a bit more and sighed; slipping on his glasses. “...I did a stupid.”

“Please tell me you didn’t do a stupid to try to make me feel better,” Jack said, hovering by the bedside, not daring to touch Mark again. “Because that did not make me feel better.”

Mark scoffed. “Jack, buddy, bro, my main dude-man-ski… I love you, really I do, but I wouldn’t throw my face into the floor just to try and make you laugh…. I mean, okay, so not when I’m like _this._ Maybe if I was healthy, I’d have considered it….”

“I think...I should probably get your doctor.” Jack had grabbed Mark pretty hard, and he was twitching on the bed.

Mark immediately propped himself up onto his elbows and snapped. **_“NO.”_** A beat, and he licked at his lips and tried again. “I mean… _no._ I’m… I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Dude, I didn’t even need the heart rate monitor for that one,” Jack said, raising his hands. “Is...did he...was it okay? That I wasn’t here when he was?” The doctor had seemed like he understood Mark’s special needs and accepted them, the dim room, the lack of restraints. Jack barely paid attention to the man when he had come in before, but he had never gotten any bad vibes from him.

Then again, Mark had been unconscious every time he had been examined in the past. Maybe just the act of examining him, of touching Mark all over...yeah, Jack could see how that could be a problem for Mark.

Mark winced, and slowly lowered himself back down. He sighed softly. “...he didn’t do anything. He’s a great doctor, and seems like a good man. But I’m pretty sure a literal angel could check me over and I’d still… it would….” Another sigh; heavier and rougher that time as he reached up to floof at his hair.

“I don’t even know if you being here would’ve helped. I’m not sure anything can. I’m just- I’m just _fucked up,_ Jack. I am. And there’s no sugarcoating it. I can’t even let someone trying to help me check my injuries without going into a numb, near catatonic state out of habit. I… I don’t want to do that again. I don’t want… to get lost in myself. In surviving.” Mark’s voice had gone quiet again as he stared down at his battered hands. “I already _did_ that. I shouldn’t have to do it anymore, but my body doesn’t _get_ that. And I’m just so scared…. Scared that it’ll happen again, that I’ll just turn into this life-sized doll for him to move around and check over. I _know_ it’s important. That I can’t afford to take risks because I’m scared but it’s _hard._ ”

Good. _Good_. It was good that Mark’s doctor had been careful with him, and Jack didn’t have to worry about that on top of everything else. And as much as Jack hated it, it was good that the bed rail had collapsed, so Mark stopped trying to convince him Jack wasn’t to blame. He poked said bed rail with one finger, making it swing on its hinge.

“Mark...if that fall...jarred something, he really should check you over. I won’t,” Jack continued quickly, “call him just yet, but...I’d like you to consider it. Remember, the sooner you heal, the sooner you can get out of here. Belly-flopping over the bed rail isn’t going to help you. What if...what if you were sedated?” Jack hated suggesting it, but he was trying to think of anything that might help. “Maybe not a full knock you out sedation, but like...I dunno, the IV equivalent of laughing gas? To make examinations easier? Or would the sedation make things worse?”

Mark pulled a face and toyed with his collar, staring at his lap and not at Jack. “If I’m going to be sedated… then just knock me out. Put me to sleep. Just the thought of laying there… stupid and out of it and helpless… aware but not aware enough to _do_ anything… it’s worse. So much worse. At the very least, when I was stuck in that room with _them,_ they let me be alert. They let me fight back if I had the strength….” He shook his head, closing his eyes and gripping at the dog tags. “If I did that, I might as well let them cuff me to the bed again…. At least now I know one of the rails is faulty….”

“He’s gonna be checking you over a lot,” Jack pointed out quietly. “I mean, the collar kinda…” Oh, Jack did _not_ want to think about that pink collar wrapped around Mark’s throat or how it got there, even if it did seem to snap Mark out of his funk.

Or had it? It had gotten him moving again, but Mark had still been dog-like and passive, still lost in that state. Jack’s stomach turned at the memory. He grimaced, twisting to pick up his own coffee, taking a large gulp to force the bile back down his throat.

“Don’t remind me….” Mark groaned, burying his face in his hands. Then he tensed. “Wait- _shit,_ the collar, there’s no way they’re gonna let me keep it if they see me wearing it- _Jack,_ Jack what do I do??” Panic was creeping back into Mark’s face as he dropped his hands to clutch at the collar, staring up at Jack.

“I will _not_ let them take that collar from you,” Jack said firmly. Because Mark had been more himself wearing it than not. Because he was obviously attached to it. Because Jack didn’t think he’d be able to put it back on Mark a second time. “And I’m not gonna let them restrain you again.”

The corners of Mark’s mouth twitched upwards again, but there was still no smile. He kept nervously playing with the collar.“I don’t think we really have to worry about that now…. I’ll be good.”

Jack sighed, shoulders slumping. “If sedation’s not gonna work...what might?”

“And… I don’t know. Maybe I can just deal with it, maybe I can tune it out without losing my head, or…” Mark’s fingers twitched over the collar again.

Jack looked at Mark’s fingers, remembered earlier how Mark had fallen asleep with their fingers linked together and Jack rambling about doughnuts. “...does talking help? Would it help if I sat in on your examination and just talked to you?”

Mark shifted his full attention to the Irishman with a surprised blink. “I… guess talking would help…. It would be a better distraction than anything my brain could come up with…. Instead of it just being me and the doctor, while he focused on….” He trailed off and shook his head.

Coughing a bit, Mark dropped his hands together and twiddled his thumbs, staring down at the gesture. “...but… if you stay, you… might see something… bad. I mean, I know you’ve seen me naked by now, either on the website or in person from that first day, but… well, y’know, it’s just…. Please don’t look.”

While part of Jack did not ever want to leave Mark’s side again, there was an equal part that did _not_ want to be present for the examination. It was one thing to scrutinize photos on a website to see the extent of Mark’s injuries, and something else entirely to see them on Mark’s actual body, damage to his flesh, discoloration on his skin. It was harder to pretend everything was okay without a screen between Jack and the reality of the situation, harder to deny everything that had happened.

“I won’t look,” Jack promised Mark quietly. Even if he had wanted to see first hand how Mark was healing beneath h is gown (Jack didn’t, he just wanted Mark to be better), he could promise Mark to preserve that much of his dignity, at least. “I’ll turn the chair away even, so my back’s to what he’s doing, and just sit up here by your head.” Of course, this was all with the doctor’s consent. Jack’s solutions would be meaningless if the doctor didn’t allow them.

Jack didn’t deny having seen the website. He was a bit surprised Mark already knew about it, and then hated his captors even more. _You couldn’t have even let him remain blissfully ignorant? You couldn’t have given him that much?_ It would have been no comfort to Mark to _not_ know where those photos were ending up, but it might have spared him a bit of despair, delayed it.

It was probably better this way. With Mark aware, there was nothing ‘worse’ for Jack to reveal to him. Jack didn’t need to say ‘oh by the way, the internet was tracking your descent into hell and making tragic music videos of our doomed love setting your screams to songs by 1975.’ Mark knew their communities as well as Jack did. If he knew the pictures were online...he knew the fans were all over them.

“Thank you….” Mark murmured a bit roughly, closing his eyes. For a brief moment, Jack could see just how utterly _tired_ he was. The exhaustion went well beyond the physical. Mark was mentally and emotionally drained. Lying in the hospital bed like this, Mark looked twenty years older. He was gaunt, bruised, and frail in a way that was just terribly _wrong_.

But when Mark opened his eyes again, they weren’t crushed beyond repair. He was more than this fragile shell. Mark _could_ come back from this. Jack knew he could. Especially when Mark looked over at him and then slid his hand closer, offering a touch. He looked marginally calmer. “I think… if we do this, I might be okay. I don’t know. We have to try it to see, but… it has to be better than before….”

Jack took Mark's hand slowly, rubbing their fingertips together before curling their fingers around each other. He ran his thumb over the back of Mark's hand and squeezed very gently. “I'll talk to the doctor, try to explain. He understood about the lights. I'm sure if you tell him it's okay, he'll let me sit in with you this time, and if that works, then he'll be more willing to do it in the future.” Jack was no doctor, understanding how medicine and healing worked, but he _did_ understand how Mark worked. He could try to explain. “And I'll explain about the collar too, to make sure nobody tries to take it away when I'm not here.”

Mark flinched at the initial contact, but he kept holding on and even managed to squeeze back with his good fingers. “Maybe…. I really hope so, if it works. I don’t know what we can do otherwise…. He seems like a good man. I hope it’ll be enough.”

“If it doesn’t work, we might have to go the sedation route, much as we’d both hate it,” Jack said quietly. “If that _does_ happen...I can stay in the room with you too, just to make sure nothing happens while you’re under. Not that I think the _doctor_ would do anything…and I won’t let him take the collar away then either.”

“Yeah…. So that’s our Plan B. Okay.” Mark reached up to toy with Chica’s tag as the collar was mentioned again; frowning slightly. “...I know this is weird. And I know a lot of people would think it was wrong, or a step backwards…. And maybe it is. But I just… for now, I need it. For now, it helps. Anything they want from me, anything they want me to do, I’ll do it. If it means I can keep it with me….”

Irrational fears were irrational for a reason, and Mark had to be chock full of them. Jack’s eyes were caught by the way Mark fiddled with Chica’s tag and forced himself not to frown. “No, it’s…” He sighed, bumping his thumb lightly over Mark’s knuckles. “I’m not going to say it’s okay,” he murmured. “We...we both know it’s pretty fucked up. But in light of everything else going on with you right now, it’s pretty low on the priorities list for things to heal. It’s not gonna…” Jack licked his lips and glanced away from that collar. “It’s not going to hurt you, so if it helps, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to keep it. It’s like turning the lights off. Someday you’ll be fine with the lights on. Until then, they can stay off.”

Except turning the lights off and putting a collar around Mark, getting a head nuzzle in response, were two _completely_ different things from Jack’s perspective. He clenched his free hand into a fist against his thigh and tried to find a smile for Mark.

“...maybe tomorrow, we can open the blinds a little. Just need to get my brain to adjust, I guess…. Baby steps, right?” Mark shot Jack a tiny, hopeful glance.

Jack nodded along with Mark’s suggestion. “Maybe we can get a lamp in here or something, not one of the fluorescent overheads, but just a little reading light, you know, get your eyes accustomed to something brighter. Because you’re in Ireland, dude. There’s not gonna be much sun for awhile...though it is almost late spring. Maybe the blinds _would_ be better. It’s supposed to rain most of the week.” Or maybe seeing the rain would remind Mark of how he was dumped, and that would be worse.

“Spring? It’s- ...it is. Right. Yeah. Uh, that… we’ll sort it out later. Good idea, though….” Mark trailed off, clearly surprised at the time lapse.

“Maybe after the doctor examines you, we can try giving your family a call. It's…” Jack pulled out his phone to check the time, “almost six am for them, so not horribly off time-zonewise.”

Mark closed his eyes again and leaned further back into his pillows. “I’d like that…. I know they’d be so happy, to see me awake and actually in a proper state of mind…. I really missed them.”

“Whenever you’re ready, let me know, and I’ll go find the doctor. If you want to just rest a bit first...that’ll probably be okay, if you’re just lying still.” Jack didn’t want to let go of Mark’s hand, didn’t want to break this tenuous connection they had forged. Not yet.

Mark sighed. “...I’ll be fine. I’d rather just get it over with, y’know? Be done with it. I know it won’t be the last one, but hopefully I’ll have until tomorrow at least before he has to… get his hands on me again. I’m just… gonna try and keep calm while you do that. Get into a meditative state, maybe. Where’s one of those harmony orbs when you need it, huh?”

Jack shut his mouth before he could shove his foot in and gave Mark’s hand another little squeeze. “Just...remember to breathe, I guess. Sorry I don’t have any better advice. I never learned how to meditate.” He held Mark’s hand for another minute before reluctantly pulling away, hating to let their touch break. "I’ll...get the doctor now. Shouldn’t be too long before I’m back.”

Mark drew several deep breaths. He let Jack pull away and closed his eyes. “Eeeevery little bit helps….. Take your time. Really.”

“I’ll be right back,” Jack repeated, before he slipped out of the room. Now...where was Mark’s doctor? The nurses might know?

Having a purpose was easier than flailing around at Mark’s side, fumbling for solutions and hoping he wasn’t screwing things up. Jack found the nurses easily enough, and then waited around while they called Dr. Agon to the nurses’ station. Jack explained what had happened, and the doctor agreed that Mark needed to be looked over, especially with the existing damage to his chest, where Jack had grabbed him.

“There’s just one thing,” Jack said, his hand on the door handle. “He’s...his collar. He asked for it back. I got it for him. _Don’t_ take it off.”

“A collar?” Dr. Agon frowned, but he gave a little nod. “He had it in his room? Of course, it would make sense that he would cling to familiarity.”

Jack relaxed minutely as he pushed the door open. “Mark? I’m back. I can stay during the exam if you say it’s okay.”

Mark swallowed nervously. “It’s okay. I want you to stay with me. Totally have my permission. One hundred percent accepted.” He was still stretched out on his hospital bed with one hand curled into a loose fist at his side. The other was firmly gripping the dog tags like a lifeline.

Jack pulled his chair close to Mark’s bed, as he had promised, taking a seat beside him and facing toward his head. “You were wondering how everyone was doing, right? Nobody’s really changed all that much in three months. Bob’s vlogs are really taking off. He and Mandy are able to do a lot of good work with their channel…” It was easy to talk about their friends, to keep up a steady stream of patter while the doctor worked, pausing only when Dr. Agon needed Mark to do something or explain something. Jack kept his eyes resolutely on Mark’s face.

When the doctor began to lift Mark’s gown to check along his bandaged abdomen, Mark uncurled his fist and twitched in Jack’s direction for a second time. The movement was abrupt and almost desperate.

Jack touched their fingers together again without hesitation and gave the good ones a reassuring squeeze. Mark breathed out, staring up at Jack even when he had to answer the occasional question from the doctor.

But then… “Mark, I would like to see your neck.” Jack glared daggers at the doctor, but Dr. Agon was apparently more accustomed to the anger of the Irish and calmly met his gaze before looking back to Mark. “May I remove your collar for a few minutes?”

Mark immediately tensed, clutching at the collar and glancing up at Jack for support. His jaw was clenched and his heart rate was spiking, but Mark pried his own fingers loose and squeezed at Jack’s fingers instead. “...yeah. Yeah, it’s… it’s fine. You can. Just… put it back, when you’re done… please.”

“Thank you, Mark,” Dr. Agon said, reaching around Mark’s neck and carefully removing the collar. He laid it over Mark’s bicep, just below the end of the gown’s short sleeve, so Mark could still feel the collar against his skin, and immediately set to work cleaning and bandaging the raw skin on Mark’s neck.

Jack watched the entire process with a possessive glower, keeping Mark’s fingers clasped between his own. He had paused when Dr. Agon asked to remove the collar, but now that Dr. Agon was done talking, Jack resumed, filling Mark in on Wade’s life. “He and Molly are still engaged, but they’re absolutely refusing to talk dates until they know when you’re available. They said they absolutely won’t be doofs like Bob and pick your birthday, no matter how perfect the venue is. But then Bob pointed out that if they _did_ , it would definitely be easy for all of us to remember…”

“I wouldn’t mind if they decided to get hitched on my birthday. So long as everyone brought two gifts to the wedding. One for them, and one for me.” Mark’s voice was tremulous; it was impossible to miss how the muscles in his jaw and neck twitched beneath the doctor’s touch. “Though if it’s gonna be summer already they might need to fly out to Ireland for it….”

“There’d have to be two cakes too,” Jack decided. “Wedding cakes and birthday cakes are _entirely_ different. And while Ireland has a lot of lovely places for weddings, I don’t think they were planning on getting married this year. I guess planning a wedding is time consuming or something.” Jack shrugged. He had no idea. His brothers had been stereotypical and hadn’t done too much wedding planning themselves, and his sisters hadn’t included him in most of their arrangements.

Even as Jack talked about Wade and Molly’s future wedding, Mark kept angling little scowls at the doctor. Dr. Agon tactfully ignored his anger, taping the last bit of gauze in place and picking up the collar again. “This may feel a bit odd at first, Mark, but the gauze will protect your neck from further chafing while you heal.” He refastened the collar around Mark’s throat carefully.

Despite his upset, Jack had to feel at least a little grateful for the doctor for restoring the collar and not leaving it in Jack’s hands to _re_ -re-collar Mark. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to go through with that again.

As soon as the collar was back, Mark’s fingers returned, toying with the accessory as he frowned. “Okay….”

When the doctor finished and moved away, Jack gave Mark’s hand a little squeeze. “Thanks,” he reluctantly told the older man. Dr. Agon nodded at the pair, offering them a reassuring smile, before seeing himself out of the room.

Once the doctor had left, Mark’s entire demeanor changed. Almost all the tension leaked out of his body like someone had pulled the stopper out of a sink. His shoulders slumped and he slid back against the pillows. A long, drawn out exhale escaped his lips. The lines in his face smoothed out and Mark closed his eyes for a few moments.

Jack stayed where he was, sitting by Mark’s head, holding his hand. “How are you feeling?” The doctor had found some stitches that had pulled open on Mark’s belly from the fall, so Jack was vindicated in bringing him in, but he still felt bad that he had put Mark through a second exam already. “About...what just happened?”

Mark dragged his thumb along the collar, then reached down to feel the stitches in his stomach through the gown. He settled back against the pillows and squeezed Jack’s hand, thumb tapping against Jack’s knuckles.. “I’m… better. I didn’t go back into that state again. The one you found me in, when you got back. I almost panicked once or twice but your voice always snapped me out of it. I… that was a good topic, talking about our friends.”

The friendly heart rate monitor told Jack that Mark was calmer, and Jack relaxed as well, giving Mark’s hand another light squeeze. “We have so many friends. I can talk about them for days. I’ll try to dish out the stories over time, so we can occupy as many exams as we need. Oh god, and the YouTube comments drama, _that_ is going to take a full day in and of itself: long story short, YouTube changed their systems _again_. About six times.” Mark knew how passionate Jack was about his comments section. Raging at YouTube had been cathartic, in a way...and in the end, Jack was actually semi-happy with the results. He wouldn’t immediately tell Mark that, though. Spoilers.

“I needed that. And I still wasn’t comfortable with him touching me, but I think if you’re here when he does it… if we can just talk, like this… I can handle it. He even… let me keep the collar on. I hated when he removed it, _hated it,_ but he put it back. So I can’t really be mad…. I didn’t even know my neck needed any attention….”

Mark huffed softly. “I seriously need to thank him, for all of this.”

“I’ll bring him some doughnuts next time,” Jack agreed with a little nod. “He’s...wow. I wonder if they picked him specifically to work with you. He’s _really_ good.” Even removing Mark’s collar was done tactfully, asking permission, leaving it on Mark’s person, and returning it quickly. “They, uh, the garda--police--called on me the day before. Wanted to go over what I should and shouldn’t do if I found you. Depended on what state you were in.” Jack gave a little shiver, remembering that briefing. It had largely boiled down to _call the police immediately, don’t touch anything, unless he’s alive, then do what he needs to KEEP him alive. Touch as little as you can._ Jack wondered how well he had managed to not touch in his desperation to get Mark out of that tarp. Probably not very well. “Wouldn’t surprise me if they’d warned the hospital too. Only hospital around, pretty obvious they’d be taking you in.”

“You’re probably right. I’m not entirely sure how this stuff works in Ireland, but I bet they’ve got some professionals that have experience with this sort of thing. Sensitive patients…And if this was the nearest hospital, they’d be sure to alert the guy ahead of time. At least the Ship Sinker’s predictability played in our favor a little…. Though how he never ends up getting caught just… just dumping bodies, I’ll never know. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“He must have dumped you _really_ fucking early,” Jack said quietly. “I know the police said they were gonna increase their drive-bys and stuff, have a greater presence in the area and be on guard for any suspicious behavior, but…” He bit his lip, and then sighed. Mark was going to find out eventually. “You were already there in the morning. I just didn’t realize until later…”

But Mark didn’t respond to Jack’s words. His heart rate had already started to spike, his hand growing clammy beneath Jack’s fingers. “Mark?” Mark was staring off into space, a panic starting to build in his face. His free hand was digging into his hair, his breathing erratic. “ _Shit_ , Mark, Mark, you’re at the hospital, Mark, you’re in Ireland, you’re safe, Mark, look at me, Mark, look at me, it’s me, it’s Jack, you’re not with _them_ anymore, Mark, just try to calm down…”

Mark was shaking badly as he released his hair, clutching at Jack’s hand with both of his own. He squeezed his eyes shut and ducked his head, pure terror and dread pinched into his face. “ _No, no, no,_ I don’t want to go back, I don’t want to be there, I don’t, I don’t, I don’t- Jack. _Jack,_ I can’t, I can’t I can’t I _can’t,_ please, it’s not fair- I don’t want to- didn’t. Didn’t want to, didn’t do _anything._ I-I did _everything_ they said, everything they asked, even when I was too sick- _I did._ I was good. I behaved, I was a good boy, but they still put me in there. They still _did it_ and I was so scared, I was trapped, I couldn’t breathe- can’t- I can’t-”

“You’re not going back, Mark, you’re never going back there. I won’t let you go back there. I won’t let _anyone_ take you back there. I promise, Mark, I swear, I _swear_ , you’re never going back there…” Mark was clinging to Jack’s hand with both of his, but then the coughs started, harsh and wet and hacking. Mark released Jack to cough into his hands, doubling over his knees.

As Mark broke away from Jack to curl up, choking on his own lungs, Jack moved, climbing onto the bed beside Mark, proximity be damned. Mark was in dire need of comfort, and Jack remembered how Mark had clung on to him that night, curled into his chest.

“Mark, it’s going to be okay. You’re safe here. I’m here. I’ve got you. I’ve got you…” Jack gathered Mark into his arms, into his lap, trying to remove him from the hospital environment as much as he could and just wrap Mark in himself, like he had that first night. He didn’t even immediately realize that he had tucked Mark’s face against his spare hoodie, still thrown over his shoulder, but then he had tugged it down and wrapped it around Mark’s shoulders, replicating that night, that first night of Mark’s freedom. Mark flopped against his chest, shaking and coughing still, lost in his own head.

“Mark, I’m here, Jack’s here, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Just breathe, okay? Breathe with me, feel me breathing. In….and out…” Jack pressed his face against Mark’s hair, feeling his own tears spilling down his cheeks, but there were more important things right now. “Just breathe, Mark. In...and out…”

Jack wasn’t sure if gathering Mark up would have been the right move, but he hadn’t seen many other choices. To his immense relief, Mark turned to bury his head in Jack’s collarbone, forcing his lungs to move with Jack’s. It took forever, soft murmured assurances, Jack rubbing his hands up Mark’s arms, but Mark slowly started to unwind. His coughing had slowed. The frantic beeping of the heart rate monitor was calming. Mark was nosing deeper into Jack’s chest, growing heavier as his muscles relaxed. He shivered and coughed a few more times, but then the monitor evened out even more. Mark was asleep beneath Jack’s chin, his breath soft but steady against Jack’s throat. Jack closed his eyes, sniffling despite himself, feeling Mark’s hair beneath his cheek damp from his own tears. “Mark…”

Jack was exhausted. It wasn’t even noon on the first day of Mark being awake, and he was so _tired_. Mark’s family could wait. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, not really. They knew Mark was alive and recovering in a hospital. If their awareness of his awareness was delayed by a few hours...well, with the time differences, they wouldn’t even realize it until after they woke up, most likely. Jack closed his eyes, Mark still cradled in his arms, and sighed deeply. “I am _never_ letting you go back there again,” he murmured into Mark’s hair, feeling his own limbs growing heavy with fatigue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	13. Night 97: A Family Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They never did call the Fischbachs...

It wasn’t until that night, when Jack collapsed face-first into his bed, not even bothering to undress first, that he realized he had completely forgotten to reach out to Mark’s family at all. _Shit._ It was just past 9 P.M. Subtract five hours...that meant the other Fischbachs were awake. Mark’s mothers were probably still at work, but Thomas, his brother, was a webcomic artist. He’d be available. Probably.

It wasn’t like Jack had forgotten to contact them on purpose. Mark managed to get through the day with minimal complications, and by that, Jack meant he hadn’t gotten locked up in the restraints again. Jack had joined him for lunch and afternoon tea and dinner, promising Mark he’d bring him some _real_ food tomorrow and not the bland hospital fare. Mark had only had another three break downs, though none of them had been as bad as the one triggered by mentioning how the Ship Sinker had dumped him. Jack had left Mark clutching his dog collar, bidding him a good night and promising he’d be back bright and early the next day.

In all of the drama of the day, of course Jack hadn’t spared a thought for Mark’s family on the other side of the world. He did so now, digging out his phone with a groan and sending a Skype message to a man he’d never met before.

“He’s awake.”

“He is?? How is he? Is he coherent this time? Or are the drugs still making him loopy? His pneumonia hasn’t worsened, has it?”

Thomas Fischbach was quick to respond to Jack’s message. Jack had to smile a little as he tapped out his response. _You’d be good for him, being here...but he’d hate it at the same time._ “He’s...okay. Not great. Better than I feared. Doctor says he’s recovering nicely.”

“Okay. Recovering, that’s good. But it sounds like there’s more to it. It’s his mental state, isn’t it? The body’s always so much easier to heal. We knew it wasn’t going to be easy when he came back, but… how bad is it? Does he have trouble functioning?”

“Sometimes.” Jack wasn’t going to lie to Mark’s family. They deserved better than that. “He woke up this morning and flipped out, didn’t know where he was. Been swinging between normalcy and breakdowns all day. Sorry I didn’t text sooner. He’s got a death grip.” Jack took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to _lie_ , but he could debate how much detail he was going to go into. “When he’s out of it, he is OUT of it. It’s scary. But then he can be completely normal and talking about Wade’s engagement or YouTube or how he prefers his coffee.”

“It’s all right. I mean, God forbid, don’t tell our moms’ that. They won’t take it nearly as well. But I understand. I figured a lot of crap would go down when he finally came to for real. I appreciate you getting ahold of me none the less. I’m sure you’re exhausted.” There was a pause. “Honestly, I’m just relieved to hear he’s still there…. As in, the old Mark is still present. Even after everything he went through. Our biggest fear was that it might’ve been destroyed, or… or wiped out, I guess. The Mark on that website, it… it wasn’t Mark. Not _our_ Mark.”

“Tell me about it.” Jack squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his fingers over the lids before continuing. “He’s still there. Most of the time. And he wants to give you guys a call, but...today wasn’t a good day. Tomorrow maybe? He did better in the early afternoon, when I’d been around long enough for him to start to trust that it wasn’t a dream. So that’d be...10 or 11 for you?”

“Tomorrow morning? Yeah. I can do that. I’ll have to contact our moms but I have the feeling they’d cancel any plans they have in a heartbeat. You barely stopped them from booking the first non-stop flight to Ireland a week ago. If you don’t think he’s ready for us to visit… I hope you’ve got some more diplomatic tricks up your sleeve. Because it’s going to be even more difficult holding them back now, and seeing as I’m just as eager to hug my baby brother again... I’m not exactly inclined to help you.”

“You can’t hug him.” That much was fact. Jack sat up, feeling a cold shiver down his spine at the thought of Mark’s moms running into the room and Mark flipping out at suddenly being trapped in two pairs of arms. “You can’t touch him. He has to reach for you first, and you have to be okay with just holding the three fingers that aren’t broken. Sometimes. Or else he’s gone. Thomas...he’s not ready for any of you. He’s not even really ready for ME. If they come, if you come, Mark is gonna fucking shatter.”

There was silence on Thomas’ end for some time. It could have meant anything. It might not have even had something to do with what Jack had said. But finally, more text appeared. “I see. So it’s really that bad. I’m not going to pretend I’m not disappointed. But I also can’t say I’m shocked. I know you saw the stuff on that website. I’m guilty of checking it too. Pretty sure even our moms looked at it once or twice, when the waiting really started getting to them…. No one could come out of that okay. We’re lucky to have Mark at all.” Another pause. Thomas was no doubt having a difficult time maintaining any semblance of composure in the wake of the news. “If he needs time, we’ll give it. I’ll… think of something. They have a higher chance of listening to me. At the very least, maybe if they can see Mark in a call, it’ll satisfy them for the time being…. Until we can show up without making matters worse.”

“He can control a call,” Jack replied, so eternally grateful that Thomas _got_ it. “He can’t...seeing him like this for real is a thousand times worse than the pictures, and he’s clean and dressed and safe. It’d break your moms’ hearts, and that’d just kill him. I’ll make sure he calls a lot, but it’s gotta be on him for when you guys fly out here. When he thinks he’s ready.”

“I understand. They will, too. It’ll just take time. And a lot of explaining. Talking to Mark will help. We’ll be available tomorrow morning for a call. I’ll make sure of it.” At first, it seemed he might be done, but then the little pencil at the bottom of the chat log began moving again. “Sean. Take care of him for us. Please. You’re all he has over there. All he’s had for the first time in months. I know I probably don’t need to tell you any of this. You’re smart. And I know you’ll be good for him. Just… do your best. He really needs you right now.”

Jack read Thomas’ words several times before replying, choosing his words carefully to try to convey the emotion roiling within him correctly. “Everything I am is because of him. I’ll do everything I can to be everything he needs, until he can go home.” _I love him._ As a best friend, and a brother, as a long-term crush, as a hero, an idol, as inspiration...Jack loved Mark in every sense of the word, even though he never dared to let the words out.

“Jack….I understand Mark really helped you to get a foothold on Youtube. I know he probably gave you advice, and was there whenever you needed support. It’s only right that you’re grateful. But he can only do so much. You build your own success, and you promote your own longevity in whatever it is you do. You got this far on _your_ merit, Jack. On all of your effort and hard work. Don’t forget that. Mark wouldn’t want you to; I know that much for a fact. I trust you. I know you’ll do whatever you can to help him. But don’t forget to take care of yourself too. Your health is just as important. And if you go down, no one is going to be there to help….”

“I’m not alone here,” Jack texted Thomas, quick to reassure Mark’s brother. “I’ll support Mark, and I have friends and family to support me. I won’t fail on him.” _Again_.

“Ireland. Right. Sorry, I forget you and Mark aren’t exactly in the same boat support-wise. I’m happy to hear you’ve got people there if you need them. And you have me, too. I may be Mark’s brother, but if there’s anything I can do to help the guy keeping my brother alive and safe, I’m going to do it. Don’t be afraid to shoot me a message. Just, remember the time zones thing, in case you’re hoping for an immediate reply. You’re a good person, Jack. I know you’ll help him. Otherwise, and I’m not exaggerating, I’d be booking a flight to Ireland right now.”

Jack smiled a little at the messages from Thomas, appreciating Thomas’ acceptance of the situation. “Thanks man. I’ll make sure he’s calling you guys as often as he can, and as soon as he’s ready for more visitors, we’ll let you know. I get that it’s hard for you guys to be so far away from him, but it really is for the best right now.”

“Yeah. I believe you. You’re the one experiencing it all firsthand; you’d know better than anyone what he’s capable of handling right now. I don’t want to push anything and make his condition worse. At least I’ll be able to hear his voice again. And know he’s going to survive. The rest, we can work on.” A brief pause, before a topic change. “How have you been holding up, anyway?”

“He’s got an awesome doctor, really understands his head state.”

Jack paused when Thomas changed the subject from Mark to Jack himself. Typical big brother, he thought, with fondness mixed with a trace of irritation. “One day at a time.” _I collared him._ “Exhausted.” _I held him while he choked on his own breath._ “But I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now.” _He needs me._

“Sometimes, baby steps are all you can do. And they’ll still get you there eventually. Make sure you get enough rest. And don’t forget to eat. I know you’re going to be worrying about Mark all the time, but I meant what I said before. You need to take care of yourself too. Even if you have a support system over there.” Something about his text didn’t make it sound like Thomas was entirely convinced, but he didn’t call Jack out on how vague his response had been. “Sorry. Not trying to sound like _your_ second mom or anything. I just know when it comes to caring for other people, you can forget about yourself sometimes. Don’t make me come over there, laddie.”

“I see why you’re Mark’s favorite person,” Jack texted back with a smile. “I had five meals today, and a nap. Still exhausted, but I’m gonna go to sleep soon. Taking time off work to focus on Mark. I’ll be fine.”

“Oh geez, he hasn’t been bragging about me again has he? He’s been doing that since we were kids. It’s almost a little embarrassing…. But I guess if I can be his role model I’ll accept the side effects. Just keep it up. Because if you start slacking on personal care, I _will_ find out. And I _will_ find a way to tell _your_ brothers so they can come and coddle you. Don’t think I won’t. We have a network.”

“Oh geez, my brothers, my one weakness…” Jack still smiled as he responded to Thomas. “I’ll make sure I’m on at least part of the call tomorrow, so you can see I’m all clean and fed and healthy and you can stop fretting.”

“Ha ha. You’d better. Our moms are probably going to want to say hi to you too. You _are_ caring for their baby over there. Just… don’t take it to heart if they give you some tough love. You know how moms can be. And we just happen to have a double dose.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior. Gotta convince them I can care for their baby. Can you let them know Mark’s awake? I’ll be up probably for another hour or so, before I call it a night, if they have any questions.” In bed before midnight? Was Jack sick? No, just completely drained from the day, mentally, emotionally, and physically.

“Yeah. I’ll give them a call right now. Just a warning, they might end up actually calling you. I can ask them not to if you’d prefer messaging, but I can’t guarantee they won’t be stubborn…. You know Mark got it from somewhere.”

“As long as it’s within the next hour, I can field their calls,” Jack replied, grinning at the thought of Momiplier chewing him out in Korean again. “Oh, hey, did Mark ever tell you I speak Korean better than he does? Your mom is scary rude when she’s pissed.”

There was a distinct pause. Jack could practically picture Thomas burying his face in his hands on the other side of the world. “Oh my God. I am so sorry. She’s so not used to anyone understanding Korean, she never even hesitates to use it when she’s not trying to be nice. I can’t remember what she said to you last week but it was probably terrible. Try not to take her too seriously….”

“It’s fine, it’s understandable. I WAS telling her she couldn’t come see her baby. My mom says worse in English on a Sunday, don’t worry about it.” Jack’s whole family used a very colorful side of the English language very casually, but Jack’s mother had never actually cussed _him_ out like that. “Would’ve been funny, under different circumstances.”

“When it comes to English, she’s careful about bad language. But Korean….” Thomas was probably shaking his head. “Let’s just say it’s likely a good thing the language didn’t stick with us. Anyway, I’m going to go give them both a call. Don’t feel obligated to stay up later than you meant to if their questions seem to go on forever. I’m going to tell them you need the rest for tomorrow. Try to get some sleep.”

“Thanks Thomas. Night”

“Good night, Jack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	14. Day 111: Jack is Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark is getting better, and Jack has packed up.

“TOP O’ THE MORNIN’ TO YA LADDIES! _My_ name is Jacksepticeye, and I’m OFF OF HIATUS! Sort of. Heh. Half-off? Fifty percent? Lil’ bit?” Jack pinched his fingers together for the camera, grinning into the lens.

“Okay, so, I know I told you guys that Mark’s health was going to come first, even above the channel. What he’s gone through...it’s something no one else in the world has endured, and so I want to be able to be there to support him as he heals. And that’s still very true. But I _miss_ you guys, miss you something awful, and...and I can’t stay on hiatus. I can’t keep _not_ working. It just...it feels so wrong. And Mark keeps frowning about it too. So we’ve sort of come to this agreement. I say sort of. I mean I thought about it out loud and he said if I didn’t he’d kick me in the ass, so…” Jack clapped his hands together, cupping his palms for maximum _whoomph_. “ _One_ video a day. Starting with this one. And I’m gonna be uploading at 10 PM for me, so...5 PM if you’re in the Boston time zone, and 2 PM if you’re in the L.A. time zone, and if you’re somewhere else, ask Google what that is for you. This time, whatever time this video went up. That time.” Jack flailed his hands.

“So...update time?” Jack rocked his chair back, looking around his new recording space. It was the only room actually set up in his new home. “I got a new room! A whole new _house_ , actually. See, here’s the thing. Mark was kidnapped.” Jack ticked points off on his fingers. “Mark was tortured. Mark was dumped pretty much on my doorstep. A plus B plus C means the Ship Sinker knows where I lived.” Jack grimaced. “Nope, that is _so_ not happy fun times. So...I moved. Here! It’s a nice little house, and it had this awesome room I set up my shit in…” Jack spun around in his chair and slapped the wall, “and _look!_ New foam! God, that old foam was such a mess trying to get it off the walls, so I said ‘fuck it!’ and just got new stuff that’s so much better quality and ahhh! I love it! It’s all squishy!” Jack patted the wall a couple times before pushing himself back to his desk. “It’s got this room, and some other bedrooms, which is good, because the doctors are saying Mark will probably be stuck over here in Ireland for a while, and so when he’s discharged from the hospital, I’ve got the space for him to move in with me. _Separate rooms_ , you dirty shippers.” Jack wagged a finger accusingly at the camera. “We’ve had enough trouble from you for one lifetime...nah, definitely cut that bit. CUT IT, FUTURE JACK!”

“So, yeah. I moved, and my sister really helped me out. I moved this room, and she coordinated the moving guys to move everything else.” It was amazing, really, how fast moving could happen when you grabbed a realtor and told them you were willing to pay cash for a clean, detached house with at least three bedrooms and great internet. Location, price, appearance...Jack didn’t care about _any_ of that. He wasn’t buying a house to love it. He was buying a house to get himself someplace safe, and to start creating a safe place for Mark to move into. After Mark left, Jack could sell it and move somewhere else. For now, though…

Well, for now Jack was the owner of a cottage overlooking the River Shannon. There was a large garden and a tall fence, and a quaint, traditional interior with lots of exposed wood beams and creaking floors. Quite honestly, Jack didn’t like the house much. It was far too old-fashioned for his tastes, reminding him of his years isolated in the Irish woods, making videos in a tiny cabin surrounded by no one but his parents and all their animals. It _was_ clean and tidy, though, making move-in a breeze, and it was absolutely nothing like that filthy padded room Mark had called home for three months, nor was it the white sterility of the hospital. Mark would probably love it, the doof, and that was enough for Jack.

“She was helping me out, because I’ve been spending most of my time at the hospital with Mark. He’s really getting so much better. It’s been what, three weeks? And he’s already…” Jack shook his head. Mark was walking on his own now. That had been a big step, getting Mark out of bed and back onto unsteady legs. He was doing much better now, using his IV stand for minimal support, but he could move closer to the window or into the bathroom without assistance. He was slowly gaining weight and color, and his breakdowns were fewer and farther between. Jack no longer collapsed into bed so exhausted and drained after a full day at the hospital, and that was why he was deciding to give recording a try. Robin was still able to edit for him, so if Jack could bang out at least one video’s worth of footage a night before bed, then his channel would at least have _some_ content. Two weeks of silence was absolutely eerie, and his channel’s exponential growth was starting to falter as a result.

“It’s not my place to tell you how Mark is doing,” Jack said with an apologetic shrug and sad little smile at the camera. “I can say he’s doing _better_. He’s growing stronger and healthier every day, and I’m _so_ happy for him. But it’s his life and his health, so he gets to be the one to keep you guys updated. I’ll definitely encourage him to at least reach out on Twitter or Tumblr. He misses all you guys too, and can’t wait to be back.” Not that returning to YouTube would be easy for Mark, with his face scarred and gaunt, his voice ravaged by sickness and screaming, and his nerves completely shot to pieces. Still, there was always hope  given enough time...even Mark might be able to face a camera again.

What else was there to say? Jack tapped his feet against the ground as he tried to think. “So...yeah. That’s really all I’ve been up to in the past couple of weeks! Lots of sitting around with Mark and sneaking good food past the nurses, and lots of looking for a new place and moving in. Doing that little is more exhausting than you’d think! But I’m back, at least halfway, and once Mark gets out of hospital, I’ll go back to two videos a day, and then things will be awesome again! But I’m gonna leave this video here, so if you _liked_ it, punch that like button _in the face, LIKE A BOSS_ aaaand high fives all around. So thank you guys, and I will see all you dudes... _IN THE NEXT VIDEO!_ ”

Jack kicked off with a foot to spin his chair into the intro, giggling like a loon. When he stopped, he grinned up at the camera. “ _Man,_ I missed that! This! YouTube! You! Mwa!” He smacked a kiss against his palm and blew it at the camera. _Perfect_.

Time to edit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	15. Day 132: Going Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark's recovery has been long and grueling, but he's finally allowed to leave.

One day at a time chewed through the weeks. Mark grew stronger every day, but not without his struggles. A good day had only a couple breakdowns or zone-outs. A great day meant Jack hadn’t climbed onto Mark’s bed to rock him back to sanity.

Great days came more and more frequently, with Mark apparently buoyed by the support of his family and friends. True to his word, Jack had gotten a Skype call between Mark and his family set up the second day. There had been a minor freak out over his collar: Mark had realized almost too late that he was still wearing it and didn’t want his mothers to see, but he also didn’t want to take it off. Jack had begged a gauze roll off a nurse and fashioned an impromptu covering for it, so it looked like Mark merely had a shredded neck and not an unhealthy dependence on that godawful collar.

It worked. It worked so well, that they did it again and again, when Mark called Bob or Wade or Tyler, anyone who pestered Jack relentlessly to hear Mark’s voice again. Only Jack knew the collar was still there, still binding Mark to that room. He was growing to loathe that strip of pink nylon as much as Mark loathed the heart rate monitor that spilled his emotional state. He didn’t say anything. Not to Mark. Playing with the tag soothed Mark almost as well as Jack’s voice did, and when Jack couldn’t be at Mark’s side, the collar was better than no anchor at all.

The days remained exhausting as Jack started recording again, balancing sitting up with Mark, taking care of his social media presence, setting up his new house, and resuming his channel. Mark was incredibly supportive when he could be, even though he did express some guilt over Jack moving because of him. Jack had to keep reassuring Mark that it was fine, the house really would be better for him anyway. No immediate neighbors to risk annoying. It was _perfect._

Jack didn’t tell Mark he thought the house was ugly and quaint in all the worst ways. Mark didn’t need to know _everything_. It was hard enough on Mark that he was made to feel like a burden. Dr. Agon had forbidden air travel until his lungs were fully recovered, a process that could take many _months_ , and he highly discouraged trans-Atlantic ship rides as well. Too much chance of Mark’s weakened immune system picking up something even more nasty. Mark was stuck in Ireland for the immediate future, and Jack had already promised him a place to stay.

By the time Mark was discharged, Jack had the cottage mostly pulled together. The recording room was padded with new foam and all his shelves were full of his treasures. His bedroom was...largely a mess, with clothing strewn everywhere from where Jack was too lazy to unpack the boxes properly. Mark’s room was in better shape, with a new bed and mattress, something plain and wooden. Mark actually had curtains _and_ blinds in his room. Jack hadn’t really bothered with window hangings or any sort of decoration anywhere else. It was more important to get the basics pulled together before Mark moved in than it was to hang art on the walls or paint them something not-neutral.

Jack’s sister had come out again to help Jack get Mark to the house. He still didn’t have a license, and he didn’t think getting Mark on a bus or cab would work just yet. His sister, at least, shared a similar face and had the same bright blue eyes that Mark kept latching onto in his distress. She shouldn’t be too upsetting.

Jack was also allowed to lecture her on the proper care and handling of a fragile Markiplier. He would have felt bad doing it to an anonymous cab driver, but his sister was another story entirely.

“Don’t talk to him unless he talks to you first. Definitely do not ask him how he’s doing or feeling or what it was like. Don’t touch him. _Do not fucking think of touching him._ Don’t look at him too much. Don’t ask about the collar. Don’t...don’t tell Dad about anything I might do during the drive to keep him calm.”

That last one got him a raised eyebrow from his obviously amused sister. Jack fidgeted with the strings of his hoodie. “You know Dad thinks he’s my boyfriend.”

“You mean you _aren’t_ dating this guy?”

“It’s a _fictional ship!_ ” Jack scowled at his sister’s giggles. “For the love of all that is good and holy, we are _not_ boyfriends! There is no need to set Dad any further up my arse about him!”

“I’m just sayin’, you’re moving into a house together. That seems like pretty serious next-step stuff, Jackaboy…”

“ _Separate rooms!_ Jesus! You’re as bad as the fangirls!”

As his sister giggled, Jack groaned and pulled his hat lower over his ears, checking to make sure all the wisps of green hair were safely concealed. “Look, just remember…”

“I know, I know. No talking, looking, touching. Most awkward drive ever.”

“I owe you one. Big one.”

“You owe me way more than one, Jackie. But don’t worry about it. What are sisters for?” His sister smiled fondly as she stepped forward and tucked a stray bit of green under the edge of Jack’s hat. He smiled back. He loved his family.

But then the hospital doors were sliding open and a nurse was pushing Mark out in a wheelchair (hospital policy, even though Mark’s legs were recovering their strength and he could walk on his own again). Sister forgotten, Jack went straight to Mark’s side. “Hey there. You ready for this?” He set his hand on the arm of the chair, not on Mark’s arm, not without Mark reaching for him first.

Mark took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes again, he gave Jack a shaky smile and let his elbow nudge at Jack’s hand. “...yeah. Yeah, I can do this.” Jack let his fingers brush over Mark’s elbow, there to help if needed, but he didn’t force himself onto Mark. 

It was a slow rise, but Mark pushed himself out of the chair with only a little wobble and stood on his own two feet. He glanced back at Jack with some pride, and turned to thank the nurse quietly.  Jack grinned back, so proud of how far Mark had come in the last six weeks. From a man who literally fell out of his bed to a man walking away from the hospital on his own, Mark had already overcome _so_ much.

Mark looked good in real clothes, too, instead of the one-size-fits-all hospital gown that had drowned his frail body. Jack’s borrowed clothing wasn’t horribly baggy on him, as Jack was naturally little more than a twig himself. It hurt to see his shirt so loose on his friend, his sweatpants tied so tight. Mark was supposed to be bigger than Jack (not taller, he was _not_ taller, but he was absolutely broader and more solid in all the best ways). Jack’s clothes weren’t supposed to fit, much less hang off Mark’s shoulders.

Still, pants and a hoodie and _real_ shoes went so far towards making Mark look normal and healthy again. He wasn’t nearly as horrifying as he had been that first night...or maybe he was. Jack glanced over at his sister, immediately scowling at the shock that was blatantly written across her face. _Stop staring!_ Jack mouthed at her from behind Mark’s back.

“Hi…… Ms. Jack’s sister…?”

Now Jack shot _Mark_ an incredulous look--all the prep they had done for this day, and he didn’t remember her _name_?--but then again, Mark had been through a lot. He sighed internally and let it drop without saying a word.

“Uh… Jack’s m-mentioned you a few times, but… it really can’t compare to meeting you in person.” Mark shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets, glancing briefly at Jack’s sister between long stares at his shoes, his unkempt hair falling in his face.

She twitched a little, then plastered a smile across her face and stepped forward. “It’s Mark, isn’t it? It’s so good to finally meet you! We’ve all heard so much about his YouTube friends…” She lifted a hand as off to shake his and jerked it back as Mark winced and Jack shot her another glare.

Way to not make this awkward.

“And she is the most socially-apt member of my family,” Jack sighed, stepping around Mark, almost protectively placing himself between his sister and his best friend. “The car’s this way, Mark, just at the curb there. Did you want to say good-bye, or…?” He extended one arm toward his sister’s VW, his other hand raised toward Mark if Mark wanted to take it. Jack wasn’t holding it out awkwardly, though, just letting Mark decide if he wanted to accept the touch or leave it. There was a lot of _new_ here, after all: new clothes, new people, new environment. Jack would actually be surprised if Mark completely shunned his familiar touch.

Mark bit his lip and sucked in a quick breath. “...I’ve already said my good-byes. At my last appointment with Dr. Agon, and then around to the nurses in my ward on the way out….” Mark gave a little nod and managed a weak smile. “I’m ready. Really. Let’s go….” He eyed Jack’s hand before pulling one of his out of his pockets to take Jack’s. That was even slower than his standing: first a brush of fingers, then their palms pressed together, and finally wrapping his fingers around Jack’s. He gave a light squeeze.

Jack was patient, waiting for Mark to take his hand fully before he squeezed back, gentle, reassuring. He held Mark’s hand as he coaxed his friend the few feet to his sister’s car and opened the back door.

As if responding to an unspoken cue, Jack’s sister went around to climb in the front seat behind the wheel. She started the car and turned on the radio to a classical station, glancing in the mirror at her brother and his broken friend.

After a glance at Mark, Jack climbed into the backseat first and released Mark’s hand to scoot over behind his sister, leaving the seat furthest away from her available. He beckoned for Mark to join him, waiting, half on edge from the wild card that was his sister. She’d already screwed up twice. What if she looked back at Mark, or said something, or tried to help…

But no, she was fiddling with the radio, and maybe the music would actually help Mark stay calm. Jack kept his smile on his face, watching Mark ease himself into the car.

Mark pulled the door closed behind him slowly. He fidgeted in the seat, picking at the fabric and tapping his feet against the floor. “...could… could you, uh… just… turn it down a little bit, please?”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” Jack’s sister spun the volume knob down, trying not to meet her brother’s accusing blue eyes in the mirror. “Better?”

“Thanks,” Jack said, buckling his seatbelt and reaching over to set his hand near Mark’s leg. Okay. Easy part down. Hard part to go. 

Mark nodded a little, still hunched over. “Thanks….” 

“Mark, you’re gonna have to buckle up. It’s the law here.” A seatbelt was a restraint. The seats were padded. The car was small. Jack’s house was too far away to walk, and Mark was in no shape to bike. They needed to ride. Jack hoped that it would be different enough, with windows and people and movement, so as not to trigger Mark’s claustrophobia or any other negative memory.

“...right. Yeah… yeah, I’m… okay.” Mark moved jerkily, reaching for the belt in small increments, tugging it across his chest. He clicked it into place and sank back against the seat, clearly struggling to stay calm.

“You can go ahead and open the window if you want some fresh air,” Jack continued on, as if he wasn’t seriously worried about Mark having a full-on panic attack in the back seat. “And it’s okay to scream. She’s a horrible driver. She’s only driving us because she has a license.”

“Gee, thanks, Jackaboy. See if I help you again. You guys ready back there?”

Mark squirmed a little, then reached over to lower the window halfway. He sighed almost immediately.  “At least she _is_ driving us. Jack, your little brother is showing.” 

Jack relaxed minutely when Mark was buckled without a panic, and a little more when he lowered the window. And he was _talking_. 

Mark nodded. “Thanks… again, girl Jack. Jackie. I’m good.”

And Mark was making light of his bad memory. The panic attack was delayed, at least for the moment. Thank _god._

“Onward!” Jack gave the back of his sister’s seat a smack, and she rolled her eyes.

“Aye aye, m’liege.”

Contrary to Jack’s claims, his sister actually was a good driver, and she was hyper aware of her fragile passenger. As she smoothly pulled into traffic, Jack settled back into his seat, still watching Mark, still keeping his hand close if Mark needed it. “I’ve told you, it’s different over here. You don’t _need_ a license like you do in America. We don’t sprawl out. Hell, you’d be fine with just a bike, but the buses aren’t half bad, really, and the trains’ll get you anywhere else you want to go. It’s called being environmentally friendly, Mr. Owns-A-Prius.”

“Ffft… that’s ‘cause you don’t have much to sprawl out _to._ No offense, your country’s probably awesome, but it’s barely the size of our smaller states…. And what’s wrong with owning a Prius?? They’re cute. _And_ good for the environment. Two-for-one.”

Jack kept up a stream of chatter about Ireland’s public transportation, ignoring his sister in favor of watching Mark. This was probably the first time she’d ever really heard him motormouth. He’d always been a gabby kid, but he’d stop for breath or get interrupted by one of their siblings growing up. This sort of unending stream of conscious ramble was something he had picked up for YouTube and perfected over weeks of sitting at Mark’s side, coaxing him back to reality.

When Jack ran out of things to say about buses (and pointed them out to Mark whenever they were near one), he switched over to the house. He’d told Mark about it several times before, but now Mark was actually going to see it. Despite Jack having been living there, somehow bringing Mark home made it actually _real._ “It’s still really weird that I have a _garden._ I’ve never taken care of a garden before. I have no idea how to tell what’s supposed to be there and what’s a fucking weed. I guess I’ll have to learn. Or just let it run wild and say fuck it, it’s bohemian chic. That’s a thing, right? Do you know how to garden? I mean...do I need to get a lawnmower thing? Fuck. I need a lawnmower thing. Do you know how to mow a lawn, Mark? We never bothered. We had goats. Practically the same thing. I guess I could just get a goat, and that would take care of the weeds too…”

“Jack. I don’t care if we’re in the Irish countryside, we are not getting a goat. I’ll write you a manual on how to mow a lawn if I have to. I was never super into gardening or anything but my mom had one. I know the basics…. We could start one, if you wanted. I think I read somewhere that gardening can be therapeutic…. But ‘Bohemian chic’? Really, Jack?” 

“I don’t fucking know different types of gardens!” Jack protested, throwing his far hand up. “I moved into the city as soon as I could! Do I look like a gardener to you? And not a _word_ about the hair.” Jack pointed accusingly at Mark, then at his sister, who merely giggled from the front seat. “Just because I look like a hedge doesn’t mean I know the first thing about growing one! I play video games! _You_ play video games! But...if you wanted to start a garden...be my guest. I mean, it’s gonna be your garden too, at least for a while. Might as well make it something you like, right?”

Mark was _almost_ snickering. Jack felt like puffing up with pride at how well he was keeping Mark distracted. “Yeah, I play video games, but I do other stuff too. Granted, it was never really _gardening,_ but still…. Where’s your sense of adventure, Jackarooni? It can be like our playthrough of The Forest. But with less headhunters and more foliage. You used to _live_ on a farm, how are you not at least a _little_ interested in gardening…?”

“I used to _live_ on a farm, Markiplur. Do you have any idea how much farming takes away from video gaming? I _dreaded_ Mum telling me to go water the potatoes _don’t say it._ ”

Jack glowered at the multitudes of jokes that went unsaid there. “And don’t ever tell Felix I know how to grow potatoes, okay? He will _never_ let me live that down. Goddamn stereotypes.”

The roads were getting smaller and emptier as they headed out of town, turning onto the quiet country road Jack lived on now. Jack shifted nervously in his seat, glancing out the window, then back to Mark. “We’re almost there. It’s...it’s up ahead, on the right. It’s the red brick one at the top of the hill, see?”

This was his _home_. Well, it was his home _now._ It still felt awkward and foreign most of the time. Jack was accustomed to his little flat in the heart of the city. Mark likely wouldn’t remember his minutes spent inside. Would he remember the couch? Jack hoped not. The last thing Mark needed was trauma related to his furniture. “I mean, it’s not really anything amazing yet, I haven’t really had much time to pull it together or anything, but your room is ready, or at least as ready as I can make it. Obviously, you can personalize it however you want, cause it’s your room. I mean. Duh. Yeah.”

Jack’s sister glanced back at her brother in the mirror, amusement dancing in her blue eyes. Jack resisted the urge to scowl. _Not boyfriends! He’s just...my best friend, and he’s never seen where I live or work before!_ It wasn’t like she’d understand. Her best friends all lived down the road, not on the other side of the world.

“Here we are!” his sister chirped, pulling into the gravel drive. Jack took a deep breath and glanced over at Mark before unfastening his seatbelt. He smiled, hoping his own nerves didn’t show. _I hope you like it…_

“Jack….” Mark stared out the window at the house, one hand on the open window. He looked back at Jack. While his smile wasn’t in his mouth, Jack could see Mark’s happiness in his eyes as he unbuckled. He looked _content_. “It looks amazing. I can’t wait to see the inside.”

Now that they were at the house, Jack shifted anxiously, looking at the little cottage with ivy clinging to the old bricks. “I mean, it’s nothing incredible, it’s certainly not as big as _yours_ or anything like that…” _Shut up, Jack, he’s smiling._ _Just shut up and let this be a win…_ “It’s pretty cramped inside too, cause old houses weren’t designed to be huge…” _SHUT UP JACK._

“I’m glad it’s not as big as my house. I think it’d be too much…. This seems nice. A good size for two people. It can’t be _that_ small on the inside….” 

Forcing his mouth shut, Jack opened the car door on his side and climbed out. His sister looked up at him, but he shook his head. _Stay in the car._ He moved around to the other side quickly, opening the door for Mark and offering him a hand. “Okay...let’s...I can show you around?”

Mark took Jack’s hand slowly and unfolded from the car. He stomped a bit, getting circulation back into his legs. He looked up at some birds in a tree, his expression growing in excitement. “Yeah. Please. I wanna see it….” Mark took a step forward, tugging at Jack’s hand for once.

“Okay, so...front garden.” Jack gestured around at the sparse lawn surrounding the drive. “Nothing too special here. And then around there’s the gate to the back garden-”

“Jack, this is a yard, not a garden.”

“It’s a _garden_ , it’s got garden stuff in it, like grass...shut up you uncultured American swine.” Jack sniffed.

“You can’t call me _uncultured_ when you used a phrase like _Bohemian chic,_ Jack.”

“Oi, Jacko!” Jack’s sister leaned out her window. “I’m gonna head back into town, yeah? You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. Thanks. Still owe you one.” Jack smiled at his sister, squeezing Mark’s hand lightly. Her eyes fell to their grasp and she raised an eyebrow, but he glared and she just smiled.

“Take care, boys!” With a wave, she backed out of the drive.

Mark waved with his sling and Jack waved with his hand before looking back at Mark. “So...back garden? The trees are in the back garden, and there’s a _shed_ to put the goat in, and a view of the River Shannon. It’s pretty close here, actually. It’s the biggest river in Ireland.”

They had made it. They had survived the car ride and the awkward presence of Jack’s sister, and now they were at Jack’s house, at _their_ house, and Mark was actually looking happy and excited about something for once.

“I’ll show you the back garden, so you can start thinking about what you’re gonna do to therapize it,” Jack decided, leading the way through the gate. 

“Jack, we’re _not_ getting a goat. But a river’s nice…. We used to live near a big one, you know. Back before I left Ohio. It actually went around the whole state. Made up our border. Does this one go all the way through Ireland?” Mark squeezed Jack’s hand, staring around in awe, trying to look at everything.

Jack stopped Mark in the back garden, beneath one of the ancient willow trees. There was a beautiful view of the river from here, flowing along at the foot of the garden. He watched Mark marveling at the sight, nodding at his question. “It’s not quite all the way through, but pretty much, yeah. She starts really far north of here, and keeps going all they way down south to the sea.” Mark looked utterly enchanted. Jack was slowly relaxing.

“And there’s also...I had a security system put in.” He nodded at a sign stuck in the window. “It’s supposed to be the best you can get for a residential building, so...yeah. I mean, we’ve got neighbors and shit, and it’s not like we’re completely out in the middle of nowhere, but it can’t hurt to be a bit safer.”

“Looks like you thought of everything…. But just one important question.” Mark settled Jack with a serious look, his shoulders relaxing. “...what’s the wi-fi password?”

Jack had started to lead Mark back to the house. He looked over to meet Mark’s gaze, grinned, and then faltered. “Er...shit. It’s _my_ password, my main one, um...I’ll need to change that. Not that I don’t trust you. Just. Um. Yeah, I haven’t actually changed it in _forever_. What about...goatsbeatlawnmowers69herpaderp?”

Mark hummed his understanding “It’s cool. I wouldn’t tell you any of my passwords either. It’s a matter of national security.” A distinct pause. “Jack, we’re not getting a goat, even if it could out-mow a machine. And we’re not making that our password. Well, maybe we can keep the sixty-nine part.”

Jack pulled out his keys, opening the back door and holding it for Mark. “So, continuing our tour, here’s the kitchen. It’s got basic kitcheny stuff. And then we go into the dining room, and the sitting room, and that’s a closet, and so is that, and that goes to the attic which is scary and probably haunted at least by bats, and then that’s my room, and the recording room, and the bathroom…”

Mark was in love. Jack could tell just from the glow to his eyes as he looked into every room. The old-school kitschy quaintness of this cottage was worth it for that look on Mark’s haggard face. “This is awesome…. If you really think there’s bats up there, we can just leave it. I don’t feel like being thrown into a Scooby-Doo intro.”

“Heh, yeah…” Jack didn’t want to think about Scooby Doo ever again, after all the times he’d wished he were actually in Scooby Doo so he could hunt down Mark and rescue him from his captors. “...and this is your room.” Jack hesitated again, then opened the door to show Mark and moving away so Mark could step inside.

It was a small room, largely dominated by a black bed with a navy duvet, as close to Mark’s bed as Jack could find on short notice. There was a dresser tucked into a corner, and by the window overlooking the back garden and river was a desk. Jack had Mark’s things set around the room, the little trinkets and mementos Tyler had selected to send. On a small table by the bed, in a place of honor beside an alarm clock, stood a tacky taco trophy. Mark’s laptop sat on the desk, with Rebecca, his diamond play button, beside it. Jack shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Um...Tyler sent me some of your stuff, but he forgot that we have different plugs over here, so your charger isn’t really all that useful. I ordered you one that should work, but it hasn’t arrived yet. Otherwise, I would have brought your laptop to the hospital for you…”

Pushing thoughts of talking dogs and bat-infested attics aside, Jack watched the awe bloom across Mark’s face as he practically tip-toed around the room, his hands hovering over everything as if he were afraid to touch, mouth parted in a little “o” of surprise. When he reached the bed, Mark faceplanted into the duvet with a loud “whumph,” spreading out as far as possible and moaning his contentment. “Just leave me here to die…. Let the bed have me, clearly I’m slowly descending to a much better place. Go on without me, Jack. Tell the world of my exploits….” He groaned dramatically before beginning to kick his feet.

Jack had to grin at the spread-eagle pose, the most space Mark had taken up since PAX South. Mark _liked_ it! He had done this much right, at least!

“I, uh, don’t have too much in the way of clothes for you yet, but I pulled out some of my larger shirts and stuff for you, and Tyler sent a lot of loungewear and stuff. I figured you could just order new while you’re here, so you get stuff better suited for the Irish weather instead of California’s. Then I’ve got, like, towels and toothbrushes and all that shit in the bathroom. Color-coded to start. You’re red. I’m green. We should have everything to get through a day or two or so definitely, and then if there’s anything else you need, we can make a list and I can run to the shops.” Jack ruffled his hand through his hair and looked around. “I guess...I can let you rest, if you’d like? I’ll go change the wifi password--router’s in the recording room, along with the modem, if you need to reset it ever. Mum stocked my fridge with leftovers and shit when she learned I was moving, so we don’t have to do any cooking for a week or so, so that’ll be good. Mum-cooked food is best food, no matter whose mum it is.”

Mark turned his face toward Jack, a tiny, rare smile actually pulling at his mouth. “Christmas towels _and_ Mama McLoughlin leftovers? You're amazing, Jack. Honestly. I still can't believe you put all this together….”

“It only looks put together because I only bothered to put together the stuff you’ll see,” Jack said, the last of his worries fading when Mark _actually_ smiled at him. The expression was tremulous and weak, but it was a real smile, and not the flimsy plastic ones Mark so frequently tried to pass off as happiness. “I’m not going to let you see my bedroom for a while yet…” He was still living out of boxes, after all.

“Oh geez, it looks like hurricane season: clothes edition in there, doesn't it? Well at least point out the closets you stuffed everything haphazardly into _before_ I open them and get buried….”

“Um...all of them?” Jack said sheepishly, feeling a small giggle of embarrassment in his throat. Damn Mark for knowing him too well… “I’m working on it! It’ll be easier now, without the commute to the hospital to worry about.” Jack was going to have so much _time_ back, with Mark actually in his house instead of miles away. Even resuming his two-videos-a-day schedule, things should be much easier. Jack hoped. The change to the environment was already looking like it helped Mark out immensely. Maybe the days of his dark breakdowns were over.

Ha, yeah, and maybe they’d get a goat. Mark was still going to have relapses, even if he was looking happier than ever before. Jack knew it wasn’t going to be smooth sailing just because Mark was deemed healthy enough to leave the hospital. Jack wouldn’t have to sit by Mark’s side all day, though. Mark would probably enjoy having some time to himself, away from the beeping of the machines (and that heart rate monitor that he had grown to _loathe_ with a passion that was really quite funny to Jack).

“Geez. Okay. Closet hazard has reached critical mass. I'll help you clean up best I can with my arm in this sling. We’ll get the house whipped into shape before your _mum_ can visit with more leftovers and lose her mind at how her _precious wee bab_ has been living.

“I don't know what to say. If there's anything I can ever do for you, ever, just say so. I owe you so much….” Mark’s expression softened, then lit up with a hint of mischief. “I'll even try your _mum’s_ haggis. Just for you.”

Jack shook his head at his friend. “Mark, you already know you’ve done so much for me. Besides...we’re friends. Helping each other is what friends _do_ , without keeping track of favors owed or crap like that. And... _haggis_? Jesus, Mark, are you _ever_ going to learn the difference between Ireland and Scotland?”

Mark wrapped his arm around a pillow and tugged it under his cheek. “Nope. Just waiting for you to paint yourself blue and give a rousing battle speech. You guys both got sheep, accents, and don't like England or something, right? Where's the difference?”

There was mischief in Mark’s eyes. He was needling on purpose. Jack wanted to cry tears of happiness. Smiles _and_ teasing? Mark really was doing so amazingly well! “Just for that, I’m going to pick the most traditional Irish food she left me with for dinner tonight…” He glowered at Mark, folding his arms. “ _Lamb stew._ ”

Mark gasped dramatically. “ _Lamb stew?!_ Not lamb stew! Oh, how ever will I cope? Please, Jack, show mercy! Forgive this poor, ignorant American! ...and maybe make him a sandwich? Or something? I mean, if it's more lamb, I could probably muscle through the horror….” Mark smushed his cheek into his pillow and batted his eyelashes at Jack.

“There really isn’t all that much weird Irish food, you silly American. And we have all the standards too, like Dominos and Chinese. We’re a bit lacking on the Mexican food, so no Chipotles or Taco Bell, sorry. But we do have KFC.” He stuck out his tongue at Mark’s eyelash-batting, shaking his head at his friend. “I’ll make you a sandwich. This time. And I’ll change the password. Be back in a bit.”

“Thanks. Next time, _I’ll_ make us _both_ tacos. Kill two birds with one stone, or whatever.” Mark wiggled his fingers in a lazy sort of wave. 

It was surprisingly hard to turn away from the bedroom, to leave Mark sprawled across the bed and go down the hall to the recording room to do a quick change on the wireless password. After that, it was easier to head to the kitchen. Mark was okay. He wasn’t going to disappear just because Jack wasn’t watching him. This house was safe. They were the only ones in it. Mark would be _fine._

How did Mark like his sandwiches? Jack stared into his fridge for far longer than he was willing to admit, drawing a complete blank. Coffee, he knew. Sandwiches? Not so much.

Honestly, Mark probably wasn’t overly picky at the moment, but Jack still wanted to make him something he’d like. His options were limited, though, so he eventually sighed and started pulling things out of the fridge. Mustard? Yeah, mustard. Mayonnaise? Yep, that too. Ketchup? Er...maybe not with mustard _and_ mayo. Meat, what sort of meat did he have...was this pink because it was ham, or because it wasn’t properly cooked? Jack sniffed, then tore off a piece to taste. Ham. Yum. Good ham. And if there was ham, he should probably add cheese. Pickles? Did Mark like pickles? Did Jack _have_ pickles? He had olives. Why the fuck did he have a jar of olives? Goddamn letting sisters do your grocery shopping. No olives. Olives had no place on a good sandwich. But ooh, pepper rings! Mark liked peppers! Or, at least, Mark usually ate peppers as a way of saying thank you to his fans, because Mark was a fucking _masochist_. Jack had done pepper challenges a couple of times. Fuck those demon shits.

But these weren’t spicy peppers, they were tangy ones, and they went really well on sandwiches. Jack added it to the ingredients on his counter. Cheese! There was the...fuck, _four_ types of cheese? Mozzarella was pizza cheese. Cheddar? Cheddar went on sandwiches. And Monterey Jack, heh, yeah, okay, Mark can have some Jack cheese. And provolone? That was a real cheese? Jack thought it only existed in Subways. But Subways made sandwiches, therefore, this was a sandwich cheese.

By the time Jack had finished his concoction, it was as tall as all four of his fingers. Jack frowned, pressing down on the top piece of bread, trying to flatten it. Maybe that was too much cheese? Yeah. He’d take off the cheddar. Okay, that was a little better. The cheddar could go on the side, next to the sandwich, as an appetizer. Mmhmm, not a mistake at all. Jack picked up his knife and cut the sandwich in half (corner to corner), then dropped the knife in the sink and carried the plate back to Mark’s room.

For fuck’s sake, it was a _sandwich_. Jack should not be feeling nervous flutters over offering it to Mark. Mark had cooked for him before. He’d cooked for Mark before. He’d just never...a sandwich was somehow a bit more personal. Because it was personalized.

Jack sighed at himself and knocked on Mark’s door before pushing it open. “Mark?”

Mark was gone. Mark was _gone_ and Jack nearly dropped the sandwich he’d just slaved over (housewifed over? Dear god, if Mark started making housewife jokes, Jack would beat him with a broom). Hands shaking, Jack set the plate on the dresser before he could ruin his hard work and crossed over to the bed to pick up Mark’s glasses.

“ _Mark!?_ ”

No, shut up, stop thinking the worst! Jack shook his head, one arm creeping around his waist in a futile attempt at self-comfort as he looked hurriedly around the room. He’d been in the _kitchen_. Mark couldn’t have been taken out the back door. There was a clear line of sight to the front door. Mark hadn’t gone out that way. The windows were closed and locked still. No escape that way. He was probably just in the bathroom...except a quick check showed that the bathroom was empty, the door hanging open. “Mark!” Jack ran from room to room, then back to Mark’s room, still clutching Mark’s glasses. “Mark, where the _fuck_ did you go!?”

Mark wasn’t under the bed. He couldn’t have gone into any of the closets. They were all crammed full of boxes and shit Jack hadn’t bothered to unpack. “MARK!”

There was a knock from behind him. Jack spun around...and stared at _Mark’s_ closet, the one closet he hadn’t crammed full of anything more than a single box on a shelf Tyler had shipped all his stuff in. Heart pounding in his throat, Jack crept over to the closet and pulled the door open.

Mark was inside, curled up, shivering and crying softly into his knees. Jack’s heart fractured again, and he slumped against the door, relief and sadness vying for control. The move had been too much too quickly. All they had done to prepare Mark, and he still hadn’t reacted well to the sudden change of the environment. Something must have happened to trigger a bad memory. Maybe it was even Jack just leaving the room. _Something_. And Mark had run for cover.

Jack took a deep breath, sorting through his options on how to handle this. “Mark?” he asked quietly, kneeling down so he wasn’t looming over his friend so much. “Mark, would you like to come out? I’ve brought you a sandwich...and here. I have your glasses.” He spoke softly, thickening his accent, offering the glasses and holding them out as far away from his own body as he could.

Mark tentatively peeked out from his knees. “...J-Jack…?” Mark’s voice was a shadow of what it had been earlier. Quiet, broken and trembling as he cradled his weak arm to his chest and dug fingernails into the carpet with the other.

“Yeah. Yeah Mark. It’s me. It’s Jack. You’re out of that room, remember? You were in hospital for a while, but you were discharged today, and you’re at my house now. Remember, Mark? That’s what’s real. Me. This place. Your glasses.” Jack stretched the glasses a little closer to Mark, just shy of prodding him with the frames. “Why don’t you take them, Mark, take them and put them on, so you can see what’s real. You can…” Jack glanced around, “you can stay in the closet if you’d like,” and he was so proud of himself for not making a joke, “but I’d really like it if you could put your glasses back on, okay, Mark?”

“...your house… our house… my….” Mark lifted his head another inch, still staring blearily at Jack before finally reaching for his glasses without touching Jack’s fingers.

Jack was growing accustomed to this, to speaking slowly and carefully, making sure every last drop of Irish was infused in his voice, making sure Mark’s name always slid off his tongue with the ‘Merk’ their communities lapped up. Repetition helped pull Mark back, drawing him out of the darkness, giving him something to focus on and filling in his blanks whenever he struggled. Mark’s name helped, as long as it was Mark and not a nickname. Markiplier was the only acceptable nickname Jack dared to use. Touch would _not_ help Mark when he was in a mild crisis like this one. Touch without permission was only for the most desperate ones, where Mark was struggling to breathe and needed to feel the movement of Jack’s chest to calm himself down. Any other time, and Jack needed to wait for Mark to instigate the touch.

Still, as far as panic attacks went, this one _was_ mild-to-moderate. Mark seemed to have struggled with his surroundings, but he recognized Jack. It was never severe as long as he recognized Jack. “You can stay where you are. I’ll even close the door again, if that will help. But please put your glasses on?” Mark’s glasses were another touchstone for the other man. He seldom had bad attacks when he was wearing them, when he could see clearly. Jack wondered, not for the first time, how many mornings Mark had woken up in a panic because his glasses were on the nightstand.

Mark’s fingers trembled as he pushed the glasses on his face. As he blinked away his tears, his shoulders slumped. “Jack….” Mark sniffled and uncurled a little. His fingers twitched by his knee before he slowly reached for Jack’s face. “Jack.”

“There we go, there you are,” Jack breathed as Mark looked at him, some of the tension leaving him.

Mark _just_ brushed his fingertips across Jack’s cheek, then pulled his hand back. He curled it against his chest again and kept watching Jack. His face wibbled. “...don’t go.”

Jack held still as Mark reached out to touch him, smiling slightly at the brush of fingers against his beard. “It’s okay, Mark, I’m not going anywhere. I was just in the kitchen, making you a sandwich. I’m sorry I took so long.” If he had just slapped together the first few things he’d grabbed, he might have made it back before Mark had his panic.

Never mind that. Jack’s therapist (because yes, after watching him with Mark a couple times, Dr. Agon had insisted on signing Jack up for therapy as well) kept reminding him that he could not change the past. What was done was done, and obsessing over what-ifs didn’t change the present. In the present, Mark was staring at him with huge, wet eyes and still far too much fear.

“Would you like to come out?” Jack asked. Mark immediately shook his head, dismissing that idea.

Choices seemed to help Mark, giving him agency and control in his life again. “Or would you like me to come in?” _Offering_ Mark choices was easy. _Respecting_ them was harder. Sometimes, Mark made a choice that really wasn’t the best, like shunning his blanket at the hospital for so long. It had driven Jack up the wall to allow Mark to push it away and not try to bring it back. Ignoring Mark’s choice was no better than not offering it at all. Jack was better at respecting Mark’s decisions now, but it was still hard.

Mark didn’t react at first to the second idea, his eyes turning inward for a long moment. “...can… can you just… sit with me? For a little while…?” he finally asked, quietly. 

“Yes, of course,” Jack answered readily. Mark had made his decision, and while Jack would have prefered Mark making the choice to emerge from the closet, he could Respect Mark’s Choices as his therapist kept repeating.

Mark was already tucked tightly into the corner, so Jack eased into the closet and took a seat on the other side as Mark watched him like a hawk. He hooked his fingers under the door, pulling it mostly closed but leaving it ajar so a crack of light still illuminated the interior of the closet. He had to draw his knees up to rest his cheek on them, watching Mark quietly.

Jack had no idea how Mark had survived being imprisoned in that room. It took barely five minutes of silence here before Jack was fighting the need to fidget. Too much movement, especially so close and so confined, could set Mark off. Jack couldn’t imagine three _months_ of silent torment, of having no ties to the outside world, no friends to talk with, no one but your captors.

Mark was slowly relaxing. Jack didn’t want to make any movements to disturb him. To stave off the urge to rock or tap his feet, Jack started humming under his breath. It was just random notes at first, but it slowly coalesced into an old lullaby he remembered from when he was young, an Irish song his mum would always sing to him to make him feel better.

Mark jumped a little, still staring at Jack, but as Jack’s humming turned into a song, Mark uncoiled from himself with a deep sigh. His hand dropped to rest in his lap and his toes bumped gently against Jack’s as he stretched out. Mark leaned his upper body against the nearest wall and let his head follow suit with a soft “thud”.

Jack frowned slightly as Mark thudded his head back against the wall, but his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, and he could see Mark’s eyes growing heavier behind his glasses. Was...was the _humming_ helping? Jack sang the words under his breath, his tongue shaping half-understood Irish words that were likely completely nonsensical to Mark but apparently working to soothe the other man as effectively as it had once soothed a baby Jack. Eventually, Mark was asleep, their feet pressed together and nothing else.

Jack finished the song and heaved a sigh, watching Mark. After a few minutes of confirming that Mark really was asleep, he turned to bury his face in the fold of his arms, hiding his tears. For all the glimpses of the old Mark, the occasional moments where Mark was the man he used to be, he was still very much this broken shell that looked like Jack’s best friend but who couldn’t be further from him. Mark wasn’t _dead_ , Jack knew, but he certainly was _lost_.

And Jack missed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	16. Night 132: Rude Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New houses aren't easy to sleep in. That's doubly true for Mark.

Jack still wasn’t fully accustomed to the noises his house made at night, all the creaking and grumbling as it settled, hundred-year-old floors flexing in the slightest temperature change. He woke up to rattles of pipes or wind gusting past his window. The screams from down the hall were just one more noise that had him jerking upright in bed with a gasp, flailing around in a moment of disorientation.

Screams. _Screams._ Fuck! Mark! Jack tumbled out of bed and bolted for the door, yanking it open before realizing _dammit, shirt!_ Jack slept in boxers and nothing else. Charging into Mark’s bedroom half-naked would _not_ help a panicking Mark feel any calmer.

Jack grabbed the nearest box, digging through the fabric in the dark until he found something vaguely shirt-like. T-shirt. That would do. Could he find pants? He’d left his jeans somewhere around here...fuck the jeans. Boxers were practically shorts. They covered enough.

Jack yanked the t-shirt over his head as he hurried down the hall toward Mark’s room. The screams had stopped by the time he reached the door, though, and he hesitated. Mark wasn’t screaming anymore. If anything… Jack leaned in closer, pressing his ear against the door. It sounded like Mark was talking quietly. To himself? Trying to calm down?

Taking a deep breath, Jack rubbed his chest, trying to calm his pounding heart. If Mark was talking to himself, he was probably _not_ having a severe panic attack. It was probably just a nightmare, which Jack had not had to deal with, not really. Mark would nap at the hospital when Jack was around, but if he woke up from any bad dreams, it was usually a bit of a start and then needing some time to calm down and reorient himself to reality. Usually, Jack was sitting by him, holding his hand and there to talk. Would that help Mark now? Or…

Jack backed away from the door and headed for the kitchen, trying to creak every board he could. He banged cupboards and rattled mugs as he set the kettle to boiling, trying to give Mark some domestic noises to help remind him that he was in a house, not the hospital. A few minutes later, Jack was squeaking his way back to Mark’s room with two mugs of tea still steaming, and he knocked on Mark’s door. “Hey Mark, you awake?” he called, trying to strike a balance between being loud enough to be heard and quiet enough to not wake Mark if he _had_ managed to fall asleep again.

Mark’s voice was muffled through the door, but Jack could still make out the words. “...yeah. Yeah, I’m up. You can come in, if you want….”

Jack pushed the door open, expertly holding the mugs in one hand. Mark was sitting up, and he looked coherent in the dim light. Not panicking. That was good. He looked fairly miserable still, but at least he was calm. Jack smiled at him. “Hey. Brought you something. Old Irish cure-all.” He turned one of the mugs to offer it to Mark handle-first. “Black tea, heavy on the milk and sugar. Nothing beats a good cuppa, no matter what’s wrong.”

Upset stomach? Have a cuppa. Nervous? Make a cuppa. Angry? A cuppa will calm you. Sleepy? Nice warm cuppa. Sad? A cuppa’s as good as a hug. The Irish actually drank more tea than the British, and as much as Jack lived off of coffee, tea was his comfort drink of choice.

Mark’s hands were shaking badly as he accepted the mug, but he managed not to spill the warm tea as he brought it to his mouth and took a drink. Jack sat on the edge of Mark’s bed, a respectful distance away, and lifted his own mug to his lips, blowing lightly on the steam before taking a sip. There was enough milk added that it wouldn’t scald their lips, but it made a nice warm wave down his throat. 

Mark gave a soft sigh. “Freaking UK people and their tea….” He was trying to be normal, but his voice lacked his usual boisterous teasing. He glanced warily at Jack and took a larger gulp of the tea.

“I will forgive your poor, ignorant little American head,” Jack said calmly, taking another sip of his tea, “but God forgive you if anyone else in this city heard you say that. We’re in the _Republic_ of Ireland here, my friend, and we are _not_ part of the U.K.” Jack shrugged a little, angling a smile at Mark as the American gave a soft snort at the patriotism. “Personally, I don’t give a fuck, but since people were being blown up about it as late as 1998...yeah. It’s kinda a touchy subject to a lot of Irish.” Jack wasn’t sure if Mark even knew about the troubles Ireland had faced in the past forty, fifty years. He knew he was fairly ignorant about a lot of American political drama, which always caused such uproar online-- _he wasn’t American! Get over yourselves!_ \--and he highly doubted Irish history was taught in American schools.

He glanced over at Mark as he spoke, trying to evaluate Mark’s condition without turning on a light. It didn’t _look_ like he was crying, or terrified, which were both good signs. He was agitated, but he wasn’t unaware of reality. Jack graded him at mildly upset. A cuppa should easily be enough to fix that.

“But yes, we do love our tea. Tis yummy.” Jack took another sip, savoring the warm drink. “And good for helping you get back to sleep in the middle of the night. Shut up, don’t give me logic about caffeine or sugar. It’s warm and thick and soothing and that’s the bit that really matters. Besides, it’s _tea_ , it’s not like espresso or anything like that, and you don’t steep it very long at night.”

“Noted. Luckily for both of us, it might be a while before I interact with anymore Irish people…. And when I do, you can just tell them I'm your ignorant American friend and it'll all make sense.” Mark gave a little nod and drank some more tea. “Ever thought of trying warm milk??”

“I won’t have to tell them anything. They’ll hear ‘American’ in your voice and immediately write you off as an idiot.” Jack hummed into his own tea, stealing glances at Mark. Mark seemed to be calming down a little, not much, but a little. He was trying to make jokes, at least. That was good. “See, that’s another example of your American silliness. Warm milk alone is gross. Warm milk in tea is good. But that’s okay. I’ll convert you yet. 

“I’m still not used to sleeping here,” he continued, as if he hadn’t come in because Mark had been screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night. “The pipes rattle and the walls groan, and my bed’s set up the other way ‘round in the room, so when I wake up the door’s in the wrong spot.” He sighed. “Typical Irish house, though. The cabin was worse. I mean, not _entirely_ worse, it did have its occasional good points, but...yeah. Pretty much sucked all around.”

“It’s still better than the hospital…” Mark was largely talking into his mug, but at least he was _talking,_ “and we have more privacy out here. If the house is bothering you too much we could always buy some ear plugs….”

Jack shook his head at Mark’s suggestion. “Nah, this is where I live now. I’m gonna have to get used to it eventually. It took a month or two to get used to the flat after I moved out of the cabin, living with roommates and having actual _traffic_ and electric noises like the boiler kicking on. I’ll settle in here again too. It’ll just take some time. Until then…” He shrugged. “It is _so_ much better than the hospital. It’s worth a bit of difficulty sleeping. That’s what tea is for.”

He was aching to know if this sort of nightmare was usual for Mark, or if it had been triggered by the new environment. Jack wanted to ask about it, wanted to ask what it was about, wanted to _know_ so that he could better fight it...but he didn’t want to trigger Mark and send him back to that dark place. “I’m thinking of night lights,” he said instead. “For all the rooms. Especially the bathroom and halls. But just, you know, a little bit of light so none of the rooms are ever completely dark. What do you think?”

Mark stared into his mug mulishly. “...probably a good idea. So we don't trip or anything if we need to get up in the middle of the night. When this moon goes, it won't be bright like the city….” He kept staring at his mug, then nodded toward it. “...think it might already be starting to grow on me…”

Cupping his mug in both hands, Jack brought it to his nose and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Mm. I made yours how I make mine, but if it’s too much or not enough milk or sugar, let me know.” Jack had a feeling they were probably going to have many nights like this in the future.

“It's… it's good, Jack. The tea, I mean… it's fine,” Mark murmured. He drained the rest before letting the empty mug rest limply in one hand that was no longer shaking. “Jack, I'm… I'm sorry…. That you needed to move out here. That you needed to go back out to the country and get a place big enough for the both of us…. You already did so much for me at the hospital; when I got dumped at your flat. If it wasn't for this stupid pneumonia bullcrap I could've gone home and you could've gotten a new flat wherever you wanted….” Mark huffed out a sigh and scraped his fingers through his hair. He slumped forward, elbows on his knees, glaring at the mug and looking decades older than he actually was.

Jack fell silent as Mark cut himself down, clearly upset about factors beyond his control. “Okay, shut up. First of all, most importantly of all, I’m _glad_ you haven’t gone home, okay? Mark...L.A. is hot and smelly and crowded, and it’s _easy_ for your friends and family to get to. That sounds horrible. What I mean is…” He sighed, looking over at Mark. “You’re not ready for that yet. I mean, even if you were better at faking it already...just _me_ can be overwhelming for you. If you were back there...you’d just be swarmed with well-meaning people who love you and missed you, but...it’d just wear you down further. Faster. Here at least…” Jack shrugged, looking back at his mug. “Here at least, it’s quiet. You can go outside without worrying about getting recognized. You’re not gonna have friends dropping by your house or trying to get you to hang out with them. I...I think if you went back to L.A. now...you’d never come back. Not back to Ireland. Back to yourself.” Jack tapped a nail against the glaze on his mug and closed his eyes. If Mark had gone back to L.A., Jack would not have been surprised at all if the next thing he heard was about Markiplier’s suicide.

“Secondly, I’d been debating moving out for months as it is. I’m loud. I’m _very_ loud. And acoustic foam alone isn’t enough to soundproof a room, much less an apartment. I’ve always been terrified of upsetting my neighbors, and after Felix got kicked out of his recording space…” Jack shrugged again. “I wanted to get a detached house like this one for a while. I just never got off my ass to do anything about it.” Granted, if Jack had actually picked a house himself, it would _not_ have been like this quaint little cottage with all its old-world charm that Jack didn’t like...but the view was nice, and it was definitely secluded. It wasn’t entirely horrible.

“And then…” Jack picked at a flaw in the glaze, dragging his thumbnail over a short, sharp spike by the handle of his mug. Yeah. Yeah, he’d tell Mark. “...I’m selfishly glad you’re still here. I just...waiting all that time, being so damn _helpless_...It’s...it’s a relief that I can do this. Sit with you. See that you’re here and safe and better and not…” _being tortured. Dying. Dead._ “I feel horrible saying that, cause I know your family probably feels exactly the same way,” _they don’t. It wasn’t_ ** _their_** _name on that website, tied to yours,_ “and your other friends, but...a little part of me doesn’t care. I don’t want to be halfway around the world from you right now. For my own sanity, if not for yours.”

Jack fell silent again, sipping at his tea. He’d said too much. Been too open. Dammit, he rambled way too often. It wasn’t just a problem with his vlogs. It happened in real life too. And Mark was getting the brunt of it, moving in with him. The American was going to grow to regret this. Jack was sure of it.

When Mark spoke, his voice was almost inaudibly soft, head bowed deeply. “...I didn't know you felt that way. I mean… of course, I figured you cared a lot, and wanted to make sure I was okay. But… I didn't know the extent… I….” He cleared his throat and furrowed his brow, adjusting his hands on his empty mug before continuing. “...thank you. For being so honest with me. I… besides Dr. Agon, the nurses, my therapist- medical people, people _paid_ to make sure I'm okay, who are used to seeing people like me…. Besides them, everyone's just tiptoed around me. Sugar coated things. And… and I appreciate them trying to be careful. I really do. I know you've done it, too. And that's okay. I'm not mad.”

Mark finally lifted his head to look at Jack, his eyes still shadowed but sincere. There was a touch of relief in the tense line of his shoulders, a slight easing to his posture.“But just now, you were honest with me. About how you've felt. It's not an easy thing to do... I don't know if I'd have been able to do it. You knew I might get upset but you told me anyway, and… and I need that, Jack. I do. And just like with everything else I've needed… you've been there to give it to me. I'm…” He gave a breathless, embarrassed laugh before rubbing at his eyes, around them, his forehead, and then he was floofing his hair as he always did.

“I'm… I probably sound like a big, bubble-blowing baby, saying this stuff. Or some cheesy protagonist of a Lifetime movie. I'm probably getting way too emotional- heck, maybe I'm even reading too deeply into it! Please, by all means, feel free to stop my incessant, appreciative babbling at any time. This is why you don't give idiot Americans sugar at two a.m., Jack. Now I will never, ever shut up and no one gets to sleep.” Huffing out an exasperated raspberry, Mark dropped his head again. “...I'm tired.”

“Hey man, judgement free zone here.” Jack glanced over at Mark as he spoke, meeting those dark eyes when Mark turned to look at him, and he couldn’t help the small quirk of his lips. Sometimes, it felt like Mark was so far away from him, but sometimes, like now, this was the best friend he could have serious, late-night conversations with, sitting up on Mark’s back patio, dangling their feet in his pool as they talked YouTube and life and all kinds of little things.

“It’s…” Jack sighed into his half-empty mug, tearing his eyes away from Mark. “It’s just...these douchebags are known as the _Ship Sinker_. Ships are more than one person. And it’s not...I am so very much aware that what they did to you was worse than anything I went through during that time, but it’s still…” Mark was appreciating honesty? Well, there was a reason you didn’t give idiot Irishmen sugar at two a.m. “It was still _my_ name up there too. I was still as much a target as you were. I mean, you were the one they attacked directly, but… God, this is stupid, as if just watching it unfold was anything like _living_ it...but there was a difference. I mean, just in how Felix and I reacted to it. Or Tyler or Wade or Bob...just...I could tell. It was...somehow more personal for me. Like on that last day. Day ninety. Everyone was fucking _excited_ that it was over, and I was just...I thought I was gonna find your corpse, and no one got why I was dreading it so much, and just…”

Jack squeezed his hands around his mug, feeling his skin slip over the glaze. “I realize it’s a billion times worse for you, but it’s still... _us_. And...and it’s not over. It’s not gonna be over for a long time. Only now you don’t have to face it alone. And neither do I. And so...yeah. Heh.” Jack rubbed his hand over his eyes. “...great bedtime story?”

He looked up at Mark again, then nodded up toward Mark’s pillows. “Want to try to go back to sleep? I can stay here and keep talking, if you’d like. Always seemed to work at the hospital. I can pick a happier topic, like video games...”

Mark didn’t answer immediately. He fingered his mug, but then he took a deep breath and spilled out a flood of words. “...do you know whose name came up, more often than anyone else’s, while I was stuck in that room?” His voice was still quiet, but it was more of a pained softness than a tender one.“It wasn’t Thomas. Or my moms. Or any of the friends I’d known _years_ longer. When I wasn’t hearing that **_damn_** nickname they decided to ruin for me, the name I always heard… was yours. You, Jack. They talked about _you._ ” Mark squeezed his eyes shut in obvious pain, gripping his mug tightly. “You’re right. They call themselves that for a reason. To them, it doesn’t matter if a relationship is _real_ or not. They know there’s some kind of connection, or there wouldn’t be a ‘ship’ to begin with. There’s _something_ there, between the two people, and they get some… some sick, **twisted** satisfaction from it. Some extra bonus they wouldn’t get from attacking a random person.

“Of course, they enjoy watching the Internet freak out too. That’s probably why they… why they started, what they did. With me.” Mark’s voice was cracking, but he squared his jaw with determination, blinking back tears as he kept talking. “But besides mentioning my fans or friends or family, it always came back to you. They’d talk about doing things to you, how they could go and pick you up like it was _nothing._ Like it was just some game. They’d say such _terrible_ things about you, Jack. And I’d try to stop them, but they enjoyed that, too. Like it fueled their whole fucked up ‘ship’ theme. Because it proved I cared about you.”

Mark leaned forward to set his mug on the floor and pressed his fingers against his face, hiding his expression from Jack. “And… and God, fuck Jack, they’d… they’d tease me. **_Incessantly._** First with the beatings, how I must be imagining my Irish knight in shining armor coming to rescue me. And then with the… the… stuff. It got worse.” Mark’s words stuttered but kept coming. “How you’d like it. From me. What I imagined doing to you. If I wished it was you. What you could do _to me._ Such messed up, whacked out _bullshit_ but there was nothing I could do. Nothing I could say. And then I was just a **_dog_** to them, a _literal dog,_ and they’d say they were training me so I’d be _good for you._ Claiming I’d be enjoying it _so much more_ if **you** were the one holding the leash and it was so awful, Sean. How they’d drag you and compare you to **_them._** Maybe I was the one being attacked, but they wanted to hurt you too. They did. Even if you never knew the full extent….

“They wanted to make sure… that when they dumped me on your doorstep- or fuck, the _dumpster_ I guess- our relationship would be changed. No matter _what_ it was before. That we’d be ruined for each other…. From listening to them, being _used_ by them… from you having the opportunity to watch, them _knowing_ you would because you just wanted to see if I was **_alive_** …. It was _always_ about **us,** Jack. Your pain was just harder to see….” His voice broke and Mark fell silent, fingers still over his eyes.

Jack listened silently to Mark, feeling the slow build of horror within his chest. He had no idea he had been used to torture Mark like that, that they’d call on him, compare him to them, insult Mark for daring to think that Jack was able to do _anything_ to help him. He hadn’t expected Mark to _validate_ that he had been right to take it so personally, much less increase the damage.

“Fuck…” he breathed out, closing his eyes. “Mark...Mark, you know it was all words, right? I mean, I know you _know_ that, you know I’d _never_...but...I mean, you do feel safe here, right? With me?”

Mark shook his head suddenly and powerfully, hands dropping to his lap. “Of course, Jack. Of course I do. Sometimes, while I was stuck there, I’d have… nightmares. About them being right. Because of how they twisted my subconscious…. But once I was with you again; seeing and hearing and touching you, it all went away. Any misconceptions or lies they’d been feeding me melted straight back to Hell where they belonged. Jack, there is _no one_ I feel safer with, than you.” 

Mark’s voice was finally firm with conviction, but Jack was still shaky. They had held Mark for three months, shoveled that poison into his mind and heart. He still wore that goddamn collar, still had to see at least a little of the dog in himself. “Mark, I’d never...I’d _never_ want to do...to do _any_ of that to you. I wouldn’t hit you or...the other stuff.” Jack might have indulged in the occasional fantasy about Mark, months ago, but he knew that absolutely _nothing_ he’d ever fantasized about came close to what they did to Mark in that room. “I’d never collar…”

Jack’s words died, his blue eyes falling to that pink collar around Mark’s throat. The collar that was there because _he_ had hunted it down, and _he_ had fastened it around Mark’s neck. Sure, Dr. Agon had been the one to put it on most recently, after removing the bandages beneath it, but Jack had been the one to do it first. Everyone else who touched it had taken it off and put it back, replacing it where Jack had set it originally. _Jack had done that._ No matter what Mark said, no matter how much he would insist he had asked for it, it had still been on Jack to refuse. And he hadn’t. “I…”

_I did, I did collar you, like a dog. I_ **_did_ ** _._

One of Mark’s hand reached up to fumble at the collar; grasping it, covering it. The other moved to Jack, hesitating before gripping Jack’s knee and squeezing firmly. He ducked his head to break Jack’s sight of the collar. “Jack. _Jack._ Fucking… **_Sean._** Sean, look at me. **_Look at me._** I know what you’re thinking. I know _exactly_ what is on your mind right now but it’s not the same, Jack, you are _not_ ** _them._** They forced this on me and used it as an excuse to treat me horribly. Used it as a tactic to cause me pain. You didn’t. You didn’t do _anything_ except what I literally _begged_ you to do. **I** asked for the collar. **I** sent you to go find it. **I** wanted you to put it on me. You almost walked away. I _remember,_ Sean. You almost didn’t do it. But you knew. You _knew_ no one else would do it for me…. No one else would help me, even if logically it might seem like giving me the collar would be a step backwards. And- and maybe it was. Maybe it is. But… but I needed it, and it helped me then, and it was _you_ who did that for me. You didn’t use it to hurt me, Jack. You just wanted to help me. And you did, and…”

Mark had to pause, draw in a breath to fortify himself. “...and grateful as I am, for that. I… regret it. To this day. Because I was blind to how it would _hurt_ ** _you._** How it would make _you_ feel. Until it was too late. And now you’ve got this weighing on you forever, and there’s nothing I can say to fix it, and you don’t…” Mark’s voice was still cracking. “You don’t want to accept that _I’ve_ messed up and hurt _you,_ too. But I have. And I’m so… so sorry. That I made you do this for me….” Mark sniffled, several stray tears breaking loose.

“Fuck me, Mark, if there’s any day you’re allowed to be selfish, it was that one,” Jack whispered, letting Mark tear his attention away from the collar. Mark could cover it and duck his head all he wanted. Jack knew it was there. “You absolutely should _not_ have been trying to think of me in that moment. You’d just...woken up in a strange place, been restrained, been medically groped...I think you were allowed to be completely self-motivated there. I just...I could have found someone else, Mark. I didn’t have to do it myself. Dr. Agon always put it back. He probably would have done it for you. I just...God, Mark, after everything they’d done to you, and I just went and did the exact same thing…”

Jack pressed a hand over his eyes, sucking in a sharp breath. He wasn’t about to cry, wasn’t about to cry, dammit, Mark was crying and Jack was tearing up...good thing he’d had the foresight to stock every room in this house with tissues. They were going to have permanently red and puffy eyes at this rate. “Mark, I just…” _I wanted to help you because I’d felt so helpless...and I shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have done it myself, shouldn’t have forced that to happen, shouldn’t have made it a memory neither of us will forget…_ “I’m sorry, Mark. I’m so sorry…”

“It’s _not_ the same, Jack. It’s **_not._** I promise. I swear to you, if it had been the same, I… we wouldn’t be here, like this, right now. We couldn’t be. Because… because I wouldn’t trust you. I _wouldn’t_ feel safe with you. But I do. And if I do, then that means you can’t be anything even **remotely** like them….” Mark was blubbering now, snuffling and scrubbing at his wet face with his free hand, his glasses all askew. “...it’s okay, Jack. I forgive you.”

That had been entirely the _wrong_ thing for Mark to say if Mark wanted any chance of Jack managing to hold himself together. As it was, it was all Jack could do to hold on to his mug and not drop the rest of his tea all over the floor. He should have drained it when he had the chance, like Mark had. Instead, Jack felt the tears start to fall and struggled against the urge to grab Mark in a hug. Grabbing Mark was bad. Unexpected, quick movements were bad. Jack sucked in a sob and dropped his free hand to Mark’s, hoping Mark would be able to allow him this point of contact. He covered Mark’s hand on his knee, fingers twitching as if to grab tight but not being allowed to fully curl like they wanted. _Don’t grab. Don’t hold. Let him pull away. Please don’t pull away._

“Mark…” The other man jumped a little, but otherwise didn’t flinch from Jack’s touch. 

Jack still hadn’t forgiven himself. Jack wasn’t sure if he’d _ever_ forgive himself. But it helped, knowing that Mark forgave him. That Mark wasn’t scarred for life over Jack’s moment of weakness. Mark had been scarred enough. Jack could bear some of the burden.

“I hate that collar,” he whispered. “I know you need it...but I hate it. I’m sorry…”

Mark cracked first, reaching for the nearby box of tissues on his nightstand and dragging it across the bed to sit between them. He grabbed a handful of tissues, his lips quivering and voice hoarse, the occasional sob fighting it’s way out. “I know you do. I know _everyone_ would, if they knew. You all have every right to, i-it’s wrong, it is, I _know_ it is. I know I shouldn’t be so attached to it b-but I am…. I am, and… I feel naked w-without it. I feel wrong. I’ll be able to get over it, eventually, but right now… r-right now, I can’t. And I’m sorry. For not being stronger than this….” Mark hiccuped from his tears, whining softly. “I’m such a mess.”

Jack really needed a third hand. He mentally flailed before leaning forward to set his mug on the floor by Mark’s, then reached between them for a handful of his own tissues. There was no way he was lifting his hand off of Mark’s for this. He scrubbed at his face; his videos had already been recorded, and it would be hours before he needed to make more, plenty of time for the redness to go down.

“For fuck’s sake, Mark, you haven’t even been out of the hospital for twenty-four hours,” Jack whispered, because he didn’t trust his voice to be any stronger right now. “You’re still sick and hurt and...fuck, your _physical_ injuries haven’t healed. How the fuck could anyone expect your _mental_ ones to be better? You don’t...you don’t have to be so hard on yourself.”

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Jack tried to calm himself down, tried to breathe slow and deep. It semi-worked. “Mark, you...you’ve come so far already. _So_ far. I mean, look at _this_.” Jack tightened his fingers around Mark’s hand, just for a second, immediately loosening his hold again. “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours,” he repeated. “You’ll get stronger. You will. And until then…” Jack wiped at his face again. “Ireland’s chilly. Plenty of reason to wear high-necked shirts.”

Mark wiped at his own face, dabbing at his tears. “S-sometimes… I forget… how time can work. I mean, I had no sense of time in the room, and then… in the hospital… it was all just a stream of the same routines. The same things. Until now, I… I haven’t  had a chance to really grasp a day going by, or an hour. Just one day… i-it’s hard to believe. It feels like longer…. It feels like after all these weeks, I should be better than I am….” As Mark’s sobs calmed, he kept mopping at his face and pushed his glasses off to let them fall on the bed.. “I… n-never was very good at, not feeling like I was letting people down… or disappointing them.”

“As if I am?” Jack asked. 

“I… Jack, I don’t know what I’d be doing without you, right now…. Oh my God, that sounds so cheesy and lame, just let me go crawl under the bed where I dumped the rest of my dignity….” There was a tiny trace of humor in Mark’s tone. Not much, less humor than there was sugar in his tea, but it was there.

Jack shook his head. “It’s...it’s late. How about instead of crawling under the bed, you just crawl under the covers. I can tell you about the latest video game releases you missed, and you can fall asleep dreaming about playing Horizon in the morning, how does that sound?” Jack dabbed at his face against and took another deep breath, shaky but more solid. “Because you’re not in the hospital anymore, and I’ve got more consoles than I can record on at once here. And a bitchin’ fast internet connection.”

Mark blew his nose and tried to smile. It didn’t reach his mouth, but Jack could see it in his eyes. “Well, I’d be a real idiot if I said no to that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	17. Morning 133: Breakfast at McLoughlin's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long night, the two eat together.

Jack sat up with Mark talking about video games until Mark’s eyes slipped closed and his breathing evened out. He sat with Mark for a few minutes longer, just watching Mark sleep. There was no beeping of hospital machines here, no tubes and wires strapped to Mark’s body. Mark was wearing normal clothes, sleeping in a normal bed. Normally. Jack wiped his hand across his eyes before he gathered up the mugs and stuck them in the hall outside the door. He’d pick them up next time he went to the kitchen. For now, Jack just retreated to his own bed, collapsing face-first into his pillow and failing to get much more sleep himself.

He must have dozed off a little, because when Jack next checked his clock, it was half past seven. Jack grumbled to himself before shoving out of bed and rummaging around for some jeans. It was easier to find them in the pale light of the morning. He tugged socks on, wrestled a pair of skinny jeans up his legs, and wandered into the kitchen with a yawn, shoving his hand through his green hair. Mmf. Coffee. Must make coffee.

Jack measured out his usual amount and then paused, a hesitant smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. No...Mark was here now too. Jack doubled the coffee and water and pulled two mugs out of the cupboard. Mark _was_ here...so maybe Jack should actually _make_ breakfast instead of just grabbing a box of cereal and not even bothering with a bowl. Yeah. He had eggs, right? Omelettes? Scrambled eggs?

 _Omelettes,_ Jack decided as he checked his supplies. Mark could use some vegetables, and Jack had plenty of those. Some ham, some peppers, some tomatoes, bit of onion...yeah, Jack would make them omelettes for breakfast. Because he didn’t have to go anywhere today. Hell, he didn’t even have to get properly dressed if he didn’t want to. Throw on a hoodie and jam a hat over his bedhead, and none of the viewers would even realize the difference. Jack grinned to himself as he cracked eggs. Did they even realize how many times he actually _did_ record like that? He wasn’t the only one. Mark and Felix didn’t always bother to dress up nice for the camera.

“Holy shit, he cooks too.”

Jack covered his surprise by twisting to stick out his tongue at Mark, though it dissolved into a giggle at the sight of Mark’s messy bedhead. Not that his own green meadow was much better. 

Mark pulled a face at him. “I know you’re laughing at the floof. You have no room to giggle, grass tufts.” 

“I cooked for my parents all the time, in the cabin,” Jack said. “I’m not completely inept in a kitchen. I’d say unlike you, except I’ve had your steamy dumps. I know you’ve gotten hidden culinary depths yourself. Hope you like omelettes, cause this one’s yours.”

“I really hooked a winner, huh? Now if only he’d remember where the dirty dishes go….” Mark teased as he wiggled the mugs up in the air before setting them in the sink and turning on the water to rinse them out before he loaded them into the dishwasher. “Jack, right now, I basically like _anything_ that isn’t a smoothie. Trust me. You could’ve offered me raw eggs and cold vegetables and I probably would have scarfed it down like it was a five star meal. But I appreciate the extra effort. Morning, by the way.”

Sliding the eggy deliciousness onto a plate, Jack picked up the bowl with the rest of the omelette mix to pour the second one. It was better than looking at Mark teasing him about the mugs. Jack may have gone slightly pink at that. “Well, nobody’s perfect!” he protested. “Besides, I had extra mugs...good morning, Mark.”

He glanced over at Mark again before crossing to the sink, filling the empty bowl with water. Clean up done for the present, Jack went to the coffee maker to pour two cups for them both. “Don’t expect breakfast _every_ morning. I just felt like cooking today. Usually I’m just a cereal kinda guy. Or doughnuts. Or whatever.”

“That’s all right. Usually, I’m up early. Just out of habit. I’ll probably be making breakfast more often than not and on my off days, you can get us some doughnuts or something. It’ll be a nice break from the norm.” 

“Did you get some sleep?” Jack asked.

Mark eagerly seized his plate and gave Jack one of those eye-only smiles Jack was rapidly becoming familiar with. He missed Mark’s huge grins, but the crinkle to his dark eyes was better than nothing at all.. “Yeah. Probably not as much as I _should_ have, but more than I would’ve gotten if you hadn’t come talked to me. Maybe the tea did help…But, yeah. Thanks… for that. It really helped.”

As Mark picked up his coffee, his arm brushed against Jack’s. Jack savored the touch, knowing full well it was not accidental. Mark was very, _very_ careful about accidental touches these days. He passed a mug to Mark and nodded toward the fridge. “Milk’s in there. Sugar’s in the bowl. Silverware’s...in a drawer. Somewhere. By the sink?” He shrugged. “I didn’t unpack my kitchen. I’m still finding stuff.”

Taking his own mug back to the stove, Jack flipped his omelette before it could burn. It smelled _delicious_. He couldn’t wait to actually eat it. “Told ya tea was a cure all. You Amuricans forgot all about it, too busy chucking it in the sea. Tea is magic. But coffee is ambrosia.”

With a grin, Jack helped himself to some silverware of his own, flipped the omelette onto his plate, and shut off the burner. He carried his breakfast out to the dining room, taking a seat by the window and letting Mark decide where he was going to sit.

“Oh, right. Fuck. Ffffft.” Mark added milk into his coffee and grabbed a fork before trailing out after Jack. Instead of taking one of the chairs, Mark folded up his legs and sat on the floor beside Jack, setting his dishes on the wood.

Mark bent forward over his plate and tucked into his food as if nothing was wrong. He even gave a happy little whine as he tasted the omelette. “Mmmph… this is so god damn good, Jack….”

Jack’s heart shattered into a million fucking pieces, splashed across the floor with Mark’s obedient posture. The egg in Jack’s mouth tasted like ash, but he swallowed it mechanically anyway, staring at the table above his plate. There were four places to sit at this table. Jack had taken one. Mark could have sat in any of the other three...but how long had it been? How long since he’d sat in a fucking _chair_?

What was Jack supposed to _do_? Just let him sit there, like a dog? No. _Hell no._ Call his attention to it? Jack didn’t want to embarrass Mark...but no matter what he said, he’d set Mark off, pointing out how he’d reverted to his ‘training’...

Jack pushed his chair back from the table, picking up plate and mug and joined Mark on the floor as if it were the most normal thing in the world, trying not to show how his broken heart was beating a mournful dirge against his ribs. He settled in against one of the table legs and sipped at his coffee, not even making a mention of the move to the floor. _Whoops, didn’t realize it was Floor Friday!_

It would draw Mark’s attention to the gaffe, but hopefully, Jack sincerely hoped, it wouldn’t _mortify_ Mark. Especially in light of their conversation last night, about that horrible collar.

The next bite of the omelette didn’t taste any better than the last, but Jack continued to force himself to eat, to pretend everything was okay with this situation, that he wasn’t crying inside.

Mark gave Jack an eye-smile and continued to eat. As Jack stayed quiet, Mark glanced back at him. “...Jack? You okay over there? You look like someone just smashed your computer. Or told you they put shaved toenail clippings in your omelette. Or that they ran out of coffee beans in the world and this is the last cup you’ll ever have- am I being descriptive enough?? I have more.” 

Mark still didn’t realize? _He still didn’t realize!?_ Jack looked blankly at Mark, then shuffled through his expressions until he found a smile. “Oh, just...thinking.” Jack wouldn’t say it, _couldn’t_ say it. _Humans eat at tables, Mark_. He’ll...next meal. He’ll bring it up at dinner. _Hey, how about we sit at the table this time?_ Yeah, that could work.

Mark furrowed his brow as he frowned, his head tilting to the side. “Oh, don’t give me that puppy look…” Jack murmured, realizing too late he had spoke aloud. Too late. Mark had already winced. Jack raked his fingers through his hair, undoubtedly making his bedhead worse, looking away from Mark and trying to change the subject. “I was gonna try to get back to recording two videos a day,” he said. “I’ve felt like such a slacker, only doing one.” Yeah, he could talk about YouTube, about his channel. He and Mark had sprawled on the floor countless times, munching on chips and rambling about nothing. 

Yeah, that wasn’t what was wrong at all, but maybe Mark would latch on to the new topic? Jack hoped so. He really didn’t want to explain to Mark why breakfast and chips were two very different things to eat on the floor. Not before he’d had all his coffee.

“Like a slacker. Ha. You’re a nightmare, Jack. Truly. I don’t know how you do it.”

“It’s really not that hard, Mark,” Jack said, glad Mark did grab on to the other topic. It almost made sitting on the floor over breakfast okay. _Almost_. “You just need a schedule. And then you need to _follow_ it.”

Mark promptly blew a raspberry at Jack to dismiss his claims. “Sleep is for the weak, and schedules are for nerds.”

“You _are_ a nerd, nerd,” Jack pointed out. They both were. Huge nerds. Jack had come to terms with it long ago. Gauges in his ears and a garage band didn’t make him cool. Green hair and a wardrobe containing mostly references to other YouTubers or anime, that _did_. In the right circles. “I’ll have the door closed, so it shouldn’t be too loud for you out here, but you can come bug me if you need anything. I won’t play anything I can’t pause. I can get you set up in the sitting room with the PS4 first, if you wanted to play Horizon. Or any of my other games. Your new charger should be showing up soon, so you’ll be able to use your own computer again.”

“ _Horizon??_ Seriously? Fuck, that _did_ come out, didn’t it? I was _so excited_ to get my hands on that release. My pre-order is probably sitting at home, right now. Damn it. Heck yes I want to play it. Have you tried it yet? Does it measure up to all the hype? Please, God, tell me the controls are smooth….” Jack’s slip of the tongue seemed forgotten already as Mark perked up immediately, babbling excitedly about the game.

Jack chuckled a little at Mark’s enthusiasm for the game. _Dogs don’t play video games._ “The controls are... _mwah_.” Jack kissed his fingers. “ _God_ , that game was so responsive. It’s incredible, it really is. The story is _crazy_ , gonna blow your mind away, and it’s _gorgeous_ , and the sound design is...I rambled so much in my playthrough. Kept going on and on about how _gorgeous_ everything was. It’s probably...I mean, did you want to do it for your channel? We could probably set something up, if you wanted to try to record…” Jack knew Mark wouldn’t agree. Not if he was still sitting on the floor. But he figured he’d offer anyway.

And immediately Mark shut down, a stiff, resounding “ ** _no_** ” bursting out of his mouth. He prodded at the last bite of omelette morosely. “I… yeah, uh… I don’t… don’t think that’s a thing that can happen, just yet, Jack…. Even if it’d be good for my channel, it’s…. I mean, the game’s been out for a while now, it’s probably too late to hop on the bandwagon anyway.” 

Jack hadn’t been expecting anything less, even if that was one of the firmest things Jack had heard Mark say since he first woke up. He almost called Mark out on the lie...but then again, who was he to berate Mark for covering over sore spots with half-truths? He hated being a hypocrite, even though he knew he was. “Yeah, it’s not old enough to be a classic, and _everyone’s_ done it. You’ll probably only be accused of copying people and not playing the game right. You know how vicious YouTube can get if you miss the trend.”

Mark gave a tight nod and another weak eye-smile. “So we’ll pass on recording this one. But!” He clapped his hands gently. “I still want to play it. And will fully take advantage of your oh-so-gracious offer, Jacksepticeye. Lead me to the PlayStation forthwith.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	18. Day 133: Jigs and Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Mark takes a shower and Jack dances a jig. Not necessarily in that order.

“TOP O’ THE MORNIN’ TO YA LADDIES! _My_ name is Jacksepticeye, and _whaaaaa_? An early video?” Jack gasped, clapping his hands against his face in the traditional ‘Home Alone’ pose. “Is Jack off his schedule? No!” He grinned at the camera. “It means I’m going back to my old schedule! Two videos a day, possibly longer videos, a _lot_ more of the commentary and stupidity you guys love! I’m even taking some of the editing back from Robin--guys, give him all of your love for the help he’s given me these past few months. Seriously, could not have done this much without him.” Jack pressed his hands into a heart. “Love ya, Robin!” His editor had been absolutely invaluable. Jack was going to give him a huge bonus, just because he could. Or a raise. It was nice to be the boss.

“But yes, two videos a day! For those of you brainiacs out there, you know what that means...Mark is out of hospital! Yeah!” Jack spun his chair around in celebration. “Wooooo….whoa, too much. Dizzy now. Woo…” He clutched his desk and grinned at his camera.

“Mark’s back, though, and he’s moved in. He’s down the hall, that-a way.” Jack pointed behind him. “I plonked him in front of the tv with my PS4, and he is lost in the world of Horizon, because he missed that release, and that is a _crime_. Maaaark! Hey Maaark!” Jack shouted over his shoulder, knowing Mark wouldn’t be able to hear him through the padding and game music. “...no answer. Yeah, he’s having fun. Which is a good thing. So, let’s see. Mark’s back, which means I’m not hanging out at the hospital, which means more time for videos. Will Mark be joining me on videos? I don’t know. Probably not? I mean, I’ve never actually recorded with two people playing at the same time, so I don’t really have a setup for that…” Jack looked around his room.

Honestly, Jack doubted Mark would _want_ to join him, as much as Jack might want Mark to. Skype and FaceTime calls with family and friends were hard enough. Mark did not like being in front of a camera. He was okay with voice, but his whole persona changed as soon as the camera turned on. He did a great job faking it for the people on the other side of the screen, but Jack saw the moment of transition. He knew what Mark hid.

Jack wasn’t about to share Mark’s secrets with anyone. It was as Mark had said last night. This most recent Ship Sinker ordeal was about _them_. Those assholes had tried to tear their relationship apart, destroy their friendship, shatter their bonds...and Jack wasn’t going to let them. He _wasn’t going to let them._ Mark was his _best friend_ , dammit, torture or not, and Jack would _not_ leave Mark to suffer alone, or inflict more pain on him by being too open on the internet. Jack would cover for Mark, paper over his cracks, smile and laugh and make his excuses, until Mark was strong enough to do it himself. Troyler and Hartbig had crashed and sunk at the hands of those psychopaths, but Phan had survived. Dan and Phil were still living together, still leaning on each other, and while they both had a more haunted look to their eyes now, they had pulled through. Jack was _not_ going to let Septiplier sink too.

“I’ll talk to Mark, though, see if he has any ideas for how to make it work. He’s done it before, after all, but then again, he did have access to the Grump Space.” Jack shrugged, as if the lack of a couch in his recording room was the only roadblock to real-time collaboration videos with Markiplier. “He’s got a lot to catch up on, though, and I’ve got a lot of videos to make, so I’m gonna leave this vlog here. If you _liked_ it, punch that like button _in the face, LIKE A BOSS_ aaaand high fives all around. So thank you guys, and I will see all you dudes... _IN THE NEXT VIDEO!_ ”

As the shout of his outro died away, Jack had an idea. He got up from his chair and opened the door to his recording room, then crept back to his chair, turned up his mic and tried again. “MAAAARK! HEY MAAAAARK!” he shouted over his shoulder, as loud as he dared without blowing out the ears of his headphone viewers.

“Holy balls, Jack, what? I don’t think Scotland heard you!” Mark called back. His voice wasn’t as strong as it used to be, but it was still definitely _Mark’s voice_ , and the majority of Mark’s fans had been without anything new for almost five months now. They would completely eat this up.

Jack turned a very satisfied grin back to his camera before shutting off the recording and heading out to the sitting room. “Sorry, Mark, couldn’t resist. It was for a recording. Do you mind if I keep it in?”

“Huh?? The recording? You shreed my name like a hyperactive banshee because you wanted a snippet of my voice?” Mark glanced at Jack a few times but mostly kept watching the game. He was curled up on the couch and completely enthralled.

“I mean… sure, I guess. All I did was say ‘balls’ and make fun of you. And mention Scotland. I guess your Scottish fans will get a kick out of that. But next time, just ask me. Instead of, y’know, nearly cracking our new windows?” Mark’s fingers didn’t slow for a moment as he worked the controller, old muscle memory filling his hands, not ruined by his months of captivity. “You were right, by the way. This game is _amazing._ ”

“ _Clearly_ , you are not a fan of Jacksepticeye if you didn’t catch the reference,” Jack said, shaking his head in mock shame as he dropped onto the couch beside Mark. “Running gag, how I always shout for my ma? Only this time, ‘she’ answered.” Jack almost elbowed Mark. _Almost_. He stopped himself from making contact. “It’ll go after the outro, anyway, in a vlog. Just to let people know that I was back to making two videos a day, because you were out of the hospital and playing Horizon.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Well sorry for not making the comparison that apparently I’m the ‘Ma’ of this cabin. Hope you don’t expect me to keep picking up after you like one.” His elbow bumped into Jack’s side as he fiddled with the controller, and Mark glanced over at Jack before turning back to the game. “Oh, okay. Cool. They’ll love that.”

“Maaaaa, Maaaaark, I figured it was obvious.” Jack shrugged and smiled at the elbow. _Two_ “accidental” touches in one day. Mark really was feeling better, even if he did have the relapse of sitting on the floor. It was two steps forward, one step back, though, every single day.

Jack fell silent, watching Mark play. He remembered this part. It was pretty epic. The whole game was. “I’ve been getting bombarded with questions about you. I get why a video wouldn’t really be your thing right now, with your lungs and everything, but have you considered a picture? I mean, bedhead aside, you don’t look half bad today. Real clothes and everything. Well. Real pajamas. If you got a shower and got dressed and snapped a selfie, you could totally make three million people cry tears of happiness.” Jack picked at the leg of his jeans. He had taken a quick shower after installing Mark in front of Horizon, because vlogs always ran a small risk of his legs showing, especially if he did things like spin around in his chair. He figured some clean clothes wouldn’t hurt today. Also, Mark had made fun of his floof, and Jack didn’t wear a hat in vlogs. “You don’t have to, Mark,” he continued quietly. “I’d understand why not. I just know that your fans are gonna watch and rewatch those last few seconds over and over again because they miss you so much.”

Mark paused the game, staring down at the controller in his hands and swallowing tensely. “...I know they miss me. I know it’s… been a while. A _really_ long while. They got so happy when I made my first tweet; when I made that post on Tumblr. I didn’t think I’d get a reaction like that, after keeping them in the dark for so long. It was… it was nice. Okay, _more_ than nice. I really needed that wave of support. But text is nothing. I don’t have to worry about how I look or sound or act when I type out a message. Not like…”

Mark bit at his lip. “...what if they get upset when they realize I’m not the same Markiplier they remember seeing posted all over the place? What if they compare the picture to some of my old ones? I don’t…” Mark sighed, letting the controller hang limply from one hand as he hunched forward over his knees. “...I don’t want to disappoint them. Or make them worry. If they think I’ve improved more than I actually have, if they think I don’t look like those awful images on that damn website….”

Jack listened to Mark’s concerns, nodding along with his words. He understood where Mark was coming from. He really did. It was a huge step forward that Mark was even _considering_ it. “Mark...you saw their reaction to your text. If you posted a picture, you’d probably get about two thousand pages of incoherent keyboard smashes, lots of less-than-threes, and so many all-caps ‘we love you Mark’s.” Jack shook his head. “No one will be disappointed. Especially not if you play it up...like, here, you have your phone on you? Take it out, take a picture of me.”

“What? I- uh, yeah. I mean….” Mark sputtered, setting the controller aside and picking up his phone. He stopped moving, staring at the screen.

Jack twisted on the couch to face Mark, pouting out an exaggerated duck-face and touching one finger to his cheek, his wrist bent at an exaggerated angle. “Do something like this, and caption it ‘aren’t I pretty?’ and you won’t get _any_ disappointment.” Jack hoped Mark wouldn’t realize what he was trying to do: get a camera out in Mark’s presence without triggering a freak out. If Mark was holding it, controlling it, and if it was pointed at Jack...baby steps. Maybe Mark would be okay.

Mark snorted at Jack’s expression, his thumb finally sliding up to unlock his phone with a fingerprint. “I don’t even know if I can turn my wrist at that angle. Still healing, remember? I bet I could get my feet to do that….” Mark hovered over the camera app and gave a sigh.

“Put on your best leprechaun stance and I’ll take a picture.”

“...leprechaun stance? What the fuck even is one of those? Hang on…” Jack dug out his own phone, opening up a browser and typing _leprechaun_ into Google images.

Mark gestured vaguely with his hands, color in his cheeks. “Y’know, the… the thing they do, in all the decorations. With the bent knees and gruff little show of muscles they don’t really have and the smarmy expression on their face-”

“Okay,  I can’t actually do a jig, but...you want me to click my heels? I could probably manage that, but you’ll have to be quick on the snap! Or no, wait!” Jack bounced off the couch with a grin. “I have a hat! I know where it is! Hold that thought! Two seconds!”

“Jack- Jack, wait, that’s not- oh my God. Oh my _God_ what have I done?” Mark’s voice was definitely faking his level of horror as Jack dashed out of the room.

The godawful stereotypical hat had been in one of his recording room boxes, and it still was, in a jumbled mess of random odds and ends that didn’t fit on his shelves but that he had used as props or gotten as gifts at one point or another. The green leprechaun hat-headband was a remnant of a St. Patrick’s Day video, and Jack remembered seeing it when he packed and unpacked. He hurried down the hall to grab it out of the box shoved in the corner. Ha, he had forgotten it had red braids too! He tucked it over his green hair and came skipping back to Mark, holding one end of each braid in each hand.

Mark’s phone came up to meet Jack as he returned to the living room, those dark eyes huge behind Mark’s glasses.

“Are the braids too much?” Jack asked, pouting at Mark and batting his eyes. “I can tuck them away if you think I’m too little-girl cute to be a leprechaun…”

Jack could easily mock his culture if it meant Mark smiled or laughed or _used a camera again_. “Do I still need to do the heel click, or is this leprechaun enough for your tastes?”

Mark tucked his mouth into his bicep, coughing and hacking. “Too much?” Jack asked. “It’s too much, isn’t it? It’s the hair. Damnit, I knew I couldn’t pull off red hair. Gaahhh…” Jack took a step closer to the couch, genuinely concerned as Mark sounded like a dying cow, wheezing into his arm. It was _laughter_ , though, definitely recognizable as laughter, and Jack wanted to laugh and cry and rub Mark’s back and make sure he could breathe. Mark stole another glance at Jack and just lost it again, eventually crumpling onto his knees, his face stuffed in his arms.

Mark shook his head as he calmed, his voice raspy from all the coughs. “If you do the dance, I’ll take a fucking selfie.”

“You sure you can handle this much sexiness doing a leprechaun dance?” Jack asked, half-teasing, half-serious. “You’re not gonna hack out a lung or something? Cause I realize I’m some seriously hot shit when I go full Irish, but I don’t want to deal with your dead body today.” If Mark could handle it, Jack would click his heels for the American. “There’s a reason I usually tone down the accent…”

Mark shook his head again, eventually lifting his head up. His face was splotchy and red from his coughing laughter, but he looked _happy_. “I dunno, I can _barely_ handle your sexiness now…. I might just die from an overexposure to pure **Irish** but if it means getting all that culture on camera, it’ll be worth it. I can handle it. Just… keep the braid flailing to a minimum. If one of those smacks you in the face, you might as well call a hearse.” Mark wheezed once again, but he lifted his phone and pointed the camera Jack’s way.

“Ya get one shot,” Jack warned Mark, pointing a finger at him as Mark raised his camera. “I mean, you can take as many pictures as you want of me, I don’t mind, but I’m only doing one heel click, unless _I_ fuck it up.”

Mark looked happy. Mark looked relaxed and giggly and while his laugh sounded _horrible_ , it was still _his laugh_ , and Mark was _laughing_ and Jack would fucking dance a jig to the moon if it would keep Mark happy. Not that he’d tell that to Mark. He had a sneaking suspicion that the other man would absolutely take advantage of that knowledge.

“One shot. One opportunity to immortalize this moment forever. The entertainment of humanity rests firmly on my shoulders. I refuse to let them down. Do your worst, Mr. Leprechaun.” Mark’s voice was still tremulous, but from laughter, not tears.

Jack looked around, pushed a chair out of the way, and swung his arms. “Ready?” he asked Mark, flicking one of the red braids out of his face.

“You have permission to launch, you blaring green beacon of Irish idealism.”

“Three, two, one!”

Mark gave a nod; muscles tensed and poised as Jack counted down.

Jack knew how to click his heels together. His brother taught him once, over a decade ago, and Jack would do it every now and then to make people laugh. He’d slipped it into at least one video, but now he was doing it in an Irish hat headband for Mark’s sake. And for Mark’s community, but if Jack was being honest, it was entirely for Mark.

The moment Jack reached one, and leaped into the air, Mark snapped the picture. Mark immediately checked the results and gave a hoarse whoop of victory. Both arms flew into the air like he had scored the winning goal of a football game. “I GOT IT!”

“Show me!” Jack pounced back onto the couch, careful not to touch Mark even as he leaned in. “I _gotta_ see this…” He burst out laughing at the image of himself frozen mid-air, stupid Irish hat on his head, heels touching.

“You, red Powerpuff, have superior camera skills. Obviously.” Jack plucked the headband off his head and held it out to Mark. “Oh mighty warrior of red, let me adorn you with these braids of victory.” He offered the hat up, either letting Mark duck his head so Jack could put it on him or take it from his hands himself.

“Obviously.” Mark looked up from the picture and eyed the silly hat with just a hint of wariness before huffing out an exasperated raspberry on his lips. Slowly, Mark gave his head a little dip so Jack could crown him with the headband. “I accept your offering, oh nimble rogue of green. Crown your photography champion.”

Jack carefully set the headband over Mark’s hair, taking extra care not to touch Mark’s head at all, and barely brushing his fingers against Mark’s hair. He knew Mark was exceptionally sensitive about touches here, and the last thing Jack wanted to do was set Mark off after such a good, _positive_ exchange.

Mark bobbed his head back and forth, making the braids bounce. Jack sat back with a grin at his success and Mark’s silliness. “There. You look gorgeous. You can keep it for the selfie, or leave it off. I don’t mind. It’s your selfie.”

“Well, if you _insist._ ” Mark flicked one of the braids with a finger. “I’ll see how it looks with my outfit. Once I get that far, anyway.”

“But...you probably should try to tame that floof first, or else that’s all people are gonna be talking about. Wanna grab a shower? You can take your time, and I’ll get started on the second recording, and then…” Jack shrugged. “Whenever you’re ready, you can do it on your own or I could be around, if it’ll help.”

Mark sighed. “Yeah, you have a point…. I’ll finish up this bit here and save, and then I’ll go get a shower. Take as much time as you want for your recording. It’ll take me an hour just to pick out the right clothes for the selfie, anyway….”

Jack grinned over the happy expression on Mark’s face, grinned and laughed and pushed himself to his feet to let Mark finish up his game in peace. He headed back to his recording room and pulled up his Steam library. Distantly, he heard the shower turn on, too faint for his mic to pick up. It was a good sign. Jack smiled. “TOP O’ THE MORNIN’ TO YA LADDIES!”

After an hour of the latest Far Cry, Jack stretched his arms over his head. Good game, that was a very fun game. He loved it. The files were loading to DropBox for Robin, and the vlog earlier would be easy enough to edit. Jack clicked open the audio to listen to the last few seconds again, of Mark shouting back at him. Hee. Those few seconds were going to be all the discussion was about, once he got past the usual “early squad!” and “notice me senpai!” Mark’s voice was going to blow the internet away. It didn’t even sound that off in the recording. Anyone who didn’t know the layout of his new house (so, everyone really) could just assume Mark was further away than he actually was. Other than that, he sounded fine. Himself. Perfect.

Thinking of Mark’s voice, where was he? Jack hung his headphones on the wall and stood up, stretching again. Mark hadn’t come to get him after his shower. The water was no longer running. Jack padded out to the living room, but Mark wasn’t there. Huh. Jack cocked his head to the side with a little frown and went to check the kitchen. No Mark. Mark wasn’t in the back garden either, nor was he in his bedroom.

The bathroom door was closed. Jack frowned at it. Was Mark still in the bathroom? It had been over an hour! Mark didn’t take _that_ long to get cleaned up, even before, when he was the vainest YouTuber Jack knew . Jack knocked hesitantly at the door. “Mark? You okay in there? You didn’t drown, did you?”

Oh god, if Mark had gone and hurt himself in the shower, if he’d slipped or something, bashed his head, on the very first day the hospital was trusting Jack to look after him… Jack pressed his ear to the heavy wood door, straining to listen through the barrier. The shower was definitely off, so Mark had at least probably not _drowned_.

“Mark, say something!” _Way to keep the panic out of your voice, Jackaboy!_ “Mark, just let me know you’re okay in there, or I’ll...I’ll come in. Mark?”

There was no answer. Jack even held his breath to better listen. Nothing. _Fuck._ “Mark, I’m sorry, you’re scaring me here. I’m coming in.” Jack set his hand on the knob, gave Mark another few heartbeats to stop him, and then twisted and pushed the door open.

Mark was not dead in the shower. That was the first thing Jack noticed, to his utter relief. Mark _was_ curled on the floor, though, leaning against the wall naked, looking about as vacant and dead-eyed as he’d been that first day. _Shit..._ This was a bad attack. Real bad. Mark didn’t even have his collar on. Jack could see it on top of his discarded pajamas. “Mark…”

Jack was getting better at pushing through a shattered heart that sat heavy and useless in his chest. He moved slowly, easing into the bathroom and sitting on the floor in front of Mark. A quick glance over Mark’s body showed no fresh injuries that Jack could see, so he focused on Mark’s face. “Mark? You still with me?” How long ago had this happened? Jack hadn’t heard any distress through the thick walls of the old house. How long had Mark been sitting here, lost in his own private hell?

Something had happened. Something had triggered Mark while he was in the bathroom. After his shower, probably, from how dry his hair was. Jack looked around and found Mark’s red towel. He picked it up, then hesitated and went for one of his green towels instead. He couldn’t really hug Mark, didn’t dare to go for so much contact with Mark so exposed, but he could ‘hug’ Mark with a towel. He circled the towel around Mark, resting it lightly on his shoulders, trying to touch him as little as possible.

Mark twitched as the towel draped over him, but he didn’t move. He took a deeper breath, but that was the extent of his reaction.

“Mark, Mark, it’s Jack. It’s Jack, I’m here. Please come back to me, Mark. Please.” Jack wanted to touch Mark, even if only to take his hand, but he didn’t dare. He didn’t want to make things worse. This was one of the darkest funks Jack had seen Mark in in weeks. Talking always helped bring Mark back. Singing? Yesterday, Jack had sung to Mark, and that had calmed him down. Would that help again?

Jack sat on the floor beside Mark, giving him some space, but close enough so Mark could see him. He placed his hands flat on the floor, spread out, and slid them closer to Mark. _Take my hand, please take my hand…_ Mark still wasn’t responding, though. Singing it was. Jack tried to remember which song had brought Mark back yesterday: an old Irish lullaby? He could try that again.

Singing quietly, letting his mouth shape the unusual syllables, Jack kept searching Mark’s face for any sign of awareness returning. If this didn’t work, Jack wasn’t sure what would.

Was it working? Jack couldn’t tell. He _thought_ it was, maybe...maybe? Mark seemed to be breathing a little easier at least. But Jack was running out of Irish lullabies and Mark hadn’t so much as lifted his head. He worried his lip between his teeth, debating trying to touch Mark...no. No, that would be bad. Maybe the singing was helping, but maybe just something _not_ a lullaby? What Irish songs did he know that weren’t lullabies?

Drinking songs?

Eh...couldn’t make things _worse,_ right? Drinking songs were rowdy and bawdy and loud, but Jack toned down the volume, at least, as he continued to sing to Mark, traditional melodies like “Old Dun Cow” and “Rattlin’ Bog” and anything else he could think of. When he ran out of drinking songs, he switched over to Twenty One Pilots and started working through their repertoire. Mark was breathing easier. It _was_ an improvement.

As Jack sang, Mark made his first obvious movement, a shift in his eyes, and then a blink. He looked around without moving his head, and then twitched his fingers. His fingers twitched again, moving across the floor. He dipped his head, eyes sliding blankly across Jack’s body as if he wasn’t even there. Mark was moving. Mark was _moving_ , and Jack thought he was going to cry. He didn’t. He held it in. Barely.

Jack finished the song and stayed silent for a moment, just watching Mark. He let his hands wiggle a little closer, daring to put them in the path of Mark’s twitching fingers.

Mark moved more with the _lack_ of singing than he had with the actual singing. He peeled himself away from the mirror, just a couple inches. He turned his head. Mark had already looked at him, but his eyes had slid right past him. What was Mark even _seeing_ right now? Was he seeing the padded room? Hearing his tormentors?

“Mark? Mark, are you back with me yet? Can you hear me? Mark? Can you look at me?

“Mark?”

Mark’s focus suddenly snapped to Jack, though his dark eyes were dilated and his expression blank. The muscles in his face twitched, and Mark’s searching hands bumped into Jack’s. Mark immediately froze, sucking in a sharp gasp, before withdrawing his hands and hugging himself. He hunched over and breathed out, a harsh, rattling breath. His eyes darted down to Jack’s hands, then back to his face. Hands. Face. Hands. Face. He seemed to be struggling to realize that both were connected to the same person. Mark looked so _lost_ , so confused… but lost and confused were better than that horrific _blankness_.

Mark gave a garbled whimper, voicing his confusion. Jack had to speak.

“It’s okay, Mark,” Jack reassured him, talking even as he leaned to the side, snagging Mark’s glasses from the floor. “It’s okay, it’s Jack, I’m just Jack. I have your glasses right here, Mark. I’m gonna put them on you, okay? Just stay calm, it’s okay Mark.” Jack carefully reached toward Mark, moving slowly, trying to get the glasses on Mark’s face without poking him in the eye or scaring him further.

Mark leaned away as Jack reached out with the glasses, but not far. He was too close to being unbalanced. He whimpered like a kicked puppy, trembling as Jack seated the glasses over his nose. “It’s okay, Mark, see? See? It’s just me. Just me and you, and we’re in the bathroom of our house. You’re safe here, Mark. You’re safe.”

As his sight was restored, Mark blinked, disbelief and fear mingling across his face, soft little whimpers and whines slipping out as if he wasn’t even aware he was making noises. He sucked on his lips, watching Jack intently, like a mouse staring at a cat.

Jack pulled his hands back, glancing over at the discarded collar lying on Mark’s worn pajamas...but he couldn’t bring himself to pick it up and offer Mark _that_. Mark would have to get it himself.

“Do you want me to sing again, Mark? I can sing again, if you’d like. Do you think it would help? Or should I just keep talking? I can talk for ages, you know I can, Mark. Whatever you want.”

Mark sniffled, curling into a ball beneath the towel. It wasn’t really a response, but Mark kept watching him as he spoke. “I’ll keep talking. You seem to like that.” Maybe? Jack had no idea. Mark was actually watching him, though, and he didn’t look quite so lost. He still looked scared, sounded scared. “So, I was playing Far Cry. It was pretty neat. Not as good as Horizon, though. Definitely top of my list for favorite game this year. Horizon. Not Far Cry. You seemed to be enjoying it. Have you met Druel yet? He’s an awesome character. I really liked the dialogue they had for him, and his voice actor. If you haven’t met him yet, you’ll get what I mean.”

It was easy to talk about video games, to fill Mark’s head with images of bright colors and total control. Jack hoped it had a positive effect on Mark, or at least his voice did. He risked sliding his hands forward again, pressing them against the ground so they weren’t possibly raised in violence, stretching them closer to Mark to make it easier for Mark to reach back for him. “I’ve been playing it as a series. Far Cry. It’s so-so. People are okay with it, not really super enthusiastic about it or anything like that. Dunno how many more episodes of it I’m gonna do. It’s getting kinda repetitive, which makes it boring for me too. I’m not entirely sure what to do next, though. Maybe another challenge video of some kind? Dunno. I’ll need to think about it. Maybe if you had any suggestions? You always had way more creative challenges than I did. But I’m not gonna do an ice bath challenge. I’m not _crazy_.”

Mark’s eyes dropped to Jack’s hands. Jack stopped moving them, and Mark sagged in relief. He kept staring at Jack’s hands as Jack rambled on and on about video games and game design. Slowly, Mark inched one hand away from his towel and set it on the floor. He pressed against the tiles, then started creeping his hand toward Jack’s.

Jack was not going to stop talking even if he ran out of air. Not with Mark _trying_.

“You’re not really paying any attention to what I’m saying,” Jack remarked in the same tone he’d been using to talk about video games. “That’s okay, Mark. You keep doing what you _are_ doing. I won’t move my hands. I won’t even move them after you touch, not at first. And I won’t stop talking either. You seem to really like it when I talk. Fuck if I know why. Is it the accent? It’s gotta be the accent, because my voice itself isn’t anything special. Not when I’m just being normal like this. It’s kinda high and kinda whiny, and _damn_ , Mark, I’d do just about anything for _your_ voice. Or a voice like yours. Not in a Little Mermaid kinda way. I wouldn’t want to _take_ your voice. Just have a cool voice too. Like a deeper one. Or a richer one. I mean, I can kinda fake it sometimes, but not without the help of my mic.”

Jack kept his hands still as he spoke, just as he promised. He alternated between watching Mark’s fingers stretching toward his and Mark’s face as the other man contemplated their hands. Mark was completely focused on the space between them. Jack highly doubted he was even picking up one word in five.

It really was okay, though. Jack wasn’t talking so Mark would _pay attention._ He was talking so Mark couldn’t forget where he was, who he was with, couldn’t snap back to that room and their hands. Mark not paying attention actually gave him more freedom of topics instead of restricted his speech, and Jack kept going.

Eventually, Mark’s fingertips bumped into Jack’s, and Mark shuddered. Jack fell quiet. Mark bit his lip and kept moving his hand forward, keeping up the slow creep to slide his fingers over Jack’s, pressing lightly against the bones of his palm. His thumb brushed over Jack’s skin, too ghastly pale for Mark Fischbach. Mark took a shaky breath and then dropped his hand flat over Jack’s. He deflated, his eyes finally losing that glassy, unclear pallor. He wheezed, forcing his lungs to make a sound, and a single word slipped out. “...Sean….”

Jack took a deep breath, let it out carefully, and then slowly turned his hands beneath Mark’s. He didn’t curl his fingers, didn’t try to _hold_ Mark’s hands, he just let them touch palm to palm. Mark pressed down harder, then slid his hand up until his fingertips brushed Jack’s wrist.  “Welcome back, Mark,” he said quietly. “You had me a bit worried there. Wasn’t sure if my lovely Irish crooning would be enough to bring you back this time.”

Mark closed his eyes and licked his lips, his voice cracked and fraying. “...I was gone… for a while…. I… you kept… you pulled me back, Jack…. Thank you….”

Jack shrugged at Mark’s first words, a bit embarrassed himself. “I’m just glad I’m _able_ to pull you back. I’m only sorry I didn’t come sooner.” How long _had_ Mark been sitting there, lost in his horrible memories? Jack had no idea. He hated even thinking about it. And what would he have done if Mark had locked the door?

“I’m just glad you came….” Mark mumbled.

Sitting on the bathroom floor with Mark was actually weirder with Mark _looking_ at him, looking with coherence in his eyes. Now that Jack wasn’t coaxing Mark back from the shadowy edge of his mind...he was noticing other things. Like how Mark was still very naked beneath the green towel. It wasn’t the first time he’d been with such a naked Mark, but it was the first time he’d really _noticed_. That first evening in the rain, Jack had been much more worried about the tape on Mark’s skin or the bruises on his face, the nasty hacking cough in his lungs or his incoherent little whimpers. And despite Mark’s love of being pantsless, Jack had never joined the Markiplier D-Club before the Ship Sinker incident. So this...this really was the first time Jack was struggling to find a distraction to keep from accidentally stealing a glance at Mark’s dick. Not in a gay way! Just...out of curiosity, you know?

Not that he hadn’t seen it before. The kidnappers had made it very obvious that Mark was at their mercy from day one, stripping Mark completely naked and taking _hundreds_ of pictures. They made sure none of Mark’s fans would be able to remain fully oblivious to what Mark’s body looked like, forcing him into poses, putting him on display, ignoring his natural inclination toward privacy. That was a sobering memory, fully powerful enough to tug Jack’s eyes back to Mark’s face and keep them there. Mark had enough of his dignity stripped from him. Jack didn’t need to add to it. He could live without measuring dicks with Markiplier.

“Feel up to moving? Maybe getting some clothes on? You’ve gotta be cold…”

Mark’s eyes flew open and his face flushed pink as he pulled back from Jack. He tugged the towel even tighter around his shoulders, hunkering beneath the cotton. “...my lower half is completely numb, I don’t… know if I can walk, right now. But I _am_ cold… and I do want clothes... Please.”

Jack let Mark pull back, hating the shame that filled Mark’s expressive face. God, Mark showed _everything_ , and that shame had been a near-constant companion in all of those photos and videos. Jack hated seeing Mark ashamed of himself. “It’s okay, Mark,” he said quietly, remembering what Mark always asked of him whenever he sat in on one of Dr. Agon’s examinations, holding Mark’s hand and talking about their friends or YouTube. “I didn’t look.” _I hope you’d know by now that I respect you too much for that._

_Even if I was tempted._

Temptation was okay, as long as he didn’t _act_ on it. Jack was allowed to be curious about Mark’s body. He really did want to know how Mark was healing, how much those horrible cuts had closed up, how faded those bruises were. He didn’t want to see the marks on Mark’s body, the flaws to what had once been a godlike man.

“Here, we’ll...just start with your pyjamas.” Jack scooted over to grab Mark’s clothes, bringing them back to the other man. He hesitated a moment before adding the collar to the pile. Mark still needed it. At least his fingers were better now. He could put it on himself. “Are you gonna need help, or do you want me to leave, or...I could just turn around?” Choices, offer Mark choices, and then _respect his decision._ Someday, Jack would accept that himself.

Mark stared down at his lap and puffed out his cheeks a little. “I know you didn’t…. I know you wouldn’t, it’s just… reflex. You know. Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “I know. I don’t...I don’t get upset, Mark. Not about that sort of thing.”

“...could you… could you just, turn around? I… like I said, I don’t know about my legs, so… I’ll probably need help, getting back to my bedroom. I just… as long as you’re not looking, it’s fine. I can tell you when I’m done.”

Jack twisted around on the floor, facing away from both Mark and the wall mirror, tempting as it was to keep himself positioned so he could steal glances and make sure Mark wasn’t about to fall over or anything. If Mark wanted him to stay in the room, he would. It was the least he could do.

“Hey...Mark?” Jack picked at the bath mat as Mark got dressed behind him. “I don’t...I don’t want to make things worse. For you. Things like the selfie...you don’t have to. You really don’t. Not if you’re not ready.” Jack couldn’t think of anything else that might have triggered Mark, anything new. “Don’t feel like you have to force yourself just cause I let you take a stupid picture of me. I take stupid pictures _all the time_. It’s not like an eye for an eye or anything like that. I just liked making you laugh again.”

“You’re not making them worse, Jack. Trust me. You’ve only ever done the opposite… I promise. There are _so_ many people and things that have made this process worse but _you_ aren’t one of them. And one little suggestion based solely on helping me, _and_ millions of people, isn’t something you should feel guilty about…. It’s good. And it would be healthy… to do something like that. Push myself to really getting better, and… and not just _waiting_ for it to magically happen. Your advice **_didn’t cause this, Jack._** Sure, maybe I felt kind of obligated at first, but… but I was actually kind of excited, to post something for the fans again…. To let them know I was really okay….” Mark paused. Jack could hear the frown in his voice. “...it would be good for me…”

“Pushing yourself is all well and good, but if you push too hard, too fast, you’ll just end up a wreck again,” Jack said. “I mean, you _have_ only been out of hospital for a day. It’s not like a new environment is gonna magically make you feel better.” He huffed a dry laugh, pulling up a leg to lean against his knee. “Apparently, quite the opposite. I think you’ve had more breakdowns in the past twenty-four hours than you have in the past week.” Curling up in the closet, nightmares that woke them both with Mark’s screams, sitting on the floor to eat, and now this? “I just…”

Jack sighed into his jeans, closing his eyes. “I can pull you out of a funk, yeah, but I just wish I didn’t put you in one to begin with. If it wasn’t the selfie that triggered you this time, what _was_ it? You’ve taken showers before, gotten dressed before...nothing else was new. Except that. Or Horizon, but I don’t think Horizon’s got anything triggery. Who knows, though. Maybe it does. I don’t fuckin’ know. I just...I wish I knew where the landmines were better. So I could actually help _before_ you blow out.”

“Jack, I’ve had more breakdowns because there’s more _stuff_ here to potentially cause them. And maybe that sounds like a bad thing, but it’s not. Because if I was still in the hospital, with _less_ chance of something triggering my anxieties, I’d be fucking _miserable._ Am I like that when I breakdown? Yeah. But when I’m not, when things are _okay,_ I’m so much happier here, Jack. I’m more comfortable than I ever could be in that damn hospital. The house isn’t the problem. Your decision hasn’t doomed me.”

Behind Jack, Mark gave a heavy sigh. “It wasn’t Horizon. Or the shower, or getting dressed. It was none of those things. I’ve worked past them, Jack. You know that. It…. It was something _I_ wasn’t even anticipating…. Something new, that hadn’t really hit me until now. Until I was an idiot, and basically triggered _myself._ No help required. I just had to look in the mirror, get a _real_ look at my body for the first time, and I paid for my curiosity. I got lost in the memories, and I freaked out, and I just couldn’t function anymore…. I curled up into a ball and let myself fade away and I would have stayed there like that, for _hours and hours_ , if you hadn’t come to check on me. If you hadn’t called me back. You’re not the reason I keep falling apart, Jack. You’re the reason I keep getting put back together.”

“How can we fix that?” Jack asked, almost turning to look at Mark. Almost. His head turned slightly but he caught himself and forced his eyes back to the door. No. No peeking. Mark didn’t say it was okay. “I mean, we can cover all the mirrors up and take down the ones that aren’t attached to the wall...but if you were triggered by your own body…”

“We don’t need to do something extreme like that. I can look into the mirror over the sink just fine. Have been for weeks… it’s why this caught me so off-guard. It’s just this one. Mirrors like this… the ones that….I was thinking we could cover it up, just for now. Until I can get over it….”

“That mirror came with the house. I don’t even know if it can come off the wall. But I’ve got extra sheets somewhere. We can cover it up. Tape paper over it, if nothing else, or cardboard. Heh. I’ve got plenty of _that_ from all the moving boxes.” It made sense, in a horrible, sickening kind of way. Jack didn’t have many scars, but every time he caught a glimpse of one of the few he had, it reminded him of how he got it. Kind of like his tattoo, how in addition to the meaning behind the symbol he’d chosen, it also reminded him of how he’d felt that day, his giddy nerves, the anticipation, the fear of it hurting...the marks on his body that he took with him through life were all triggers for memories. Usually, not horrible ones. Even the scar cutting across his eyebrow was a good memory now, because it triggered the Septic Eye name, it literally _created_ Jacksepticeye. Even though it hurt like a little _bitch_ at the time.

If Jack’s few scars triggered memories, he could only imagine how much worse Mark’s could be. He knew Mark was scarred. He could see the lines on his face and down his arms when he’d worn the hospital gown. His legs hadn’t been much better. His fingers were still a little twisted, and Jack knew the sort of injuries that hid beneath Mark’s clothes, the lashes from a whip decorating his back, the burns, the cuts, the _bites_. Even if Mark never looked in a mirror again, if he walked past a too-reflective window, or glanced down while getting dressed…

“I mean, short of making the memories themselves not so bad...but how do we even _begin_ to do that? What if...I dunno. I don’t…” If only they could make all the memories like Mark’s collar. Jack couldn’t believe Mark still clung to that foul thing. He understood why intellectually, but Jack couldn’t believe _it_ didn’t trigger Mark. Somehow, Mark had turned that one horrible strip of nylon into a touchstone that could keep him grounded. He did that with Jack too, with his voice, but Jack knew he couldn’t always be there for Mark. Certainly not for the rest of his life. They would go their separate ways eventually, with Mark returning to L.A. and Jack staying in Ireland. Jack sank his cheek onto his knee, fiddling with his bracelets as he tried to think.

“Not even possible, Jack…. Sorry, I know you’re trying, but… it’s just not….”

His bracelets? _Wait a minute…_ Jack lifted his head to look at the collection of bracelets encircling his left arm. He pulled off a bright green rubber one and twisted around suddenly to offer it to Mark. “What about this?” he asked. “It’s not, I mean, it’s obviously not gonna make the memories go away, but it’s something you can wear, and you can wear it all the time, even in the shower, and it’s not...I mean, it’s not like my voice or anything like that, but you can tug on it like you do with your collar and remind yourself what’s real maybe…” Jack trailed off, realizing he had turned around before Mark said it was okay and went a little pink, even though Mark had his shirt on and his sweatpants in his lap, covering anything private.

Mark’s head snapped up when Jack spun around, staring at the bracelet. One brow quirked. “Your… bracelet…? What…”

“...sorry, it was a stupid idea, I’ll just...yeah.” Jack turned away again, coughing a little in a pathetic attempt to hide his embarrassment at slipping up.

“No, Jack, listen. That’s a _good_ idea.” Mark’s agreement surprised Jack. “Giving me something of yours to hang onto. To grab at, when you’re not available. We both know you won’t be here for me forever. We need a way to prepare for that, and… this could work. I mean, it’s no locket or faded photograph like all the cheesy movies, but it’ll work. _Everyone_ associates these bracelets with you. If I have it, if I wear it… and something goes wrong, I’ll have an immediate reassurance. Something else of yours to grab onto besides your voice or you physically _being there._ I… I feel a little bad, just taking one of your bracelets like this, but…. I think it’s worth a try, at least. _Anything_ is better than… than getting lost again. You can agree with me on that much, right?”

“Oh please, I have, like, _hundreds_ of bracelets,” Jack said. Even if he didn’t have a tendency to collect them on his own, his fans had noticed his love of them and been gifting him bracelets for years. Jack tried to cycle through them whenever he could. “Giving you one is not gonna be a problem.” He turned around again, slowly this time, taking care about where he was looking. Mark’s face. Just Mark’s face.

“Well gee, when you say it like that, I could probably get away with wearing as many as you do.” Mark’s reply was a little bit sassy, but that was a good thing. He was relaxing. Coming back. He tensed as Jack turned, but he didn’t flinch away.

“If you think...if you think it’ll help.” Jack offered out the bracelet again, but this time with a hopeful little smile.

Jack knew he wouldn’t be able to make Mark’s memories of his imprisonment any sweeter. Maybe someday, years from now, Mark would be able to take a lover who could worship his scars and layer better memories on top of them. Jack knew that would be beyond his ability as a friend. But he could be a stop-gap and fill the time between a hypothetical future where Mark was comfortable with the touch of another and now, where Mark apparently broke down over seeing too-big mirrors. He really had been scared when he saw Mark curled in front of the mirror. It was just another reminder at how far from okay Mark actually was.

“I don’t know if it will. I really can’t say, until… something happens. But. I’m willing to give it a shot. What other options do we have?? Besides, wearing it won’t have any negative effects, so…” Mark took the bracelet from Jack and examined it before wiggling it onto his wrist. He bounced his arm, setting the green rubber band to dancing. Then he sighed and gripped his pants. “Jack…. Can we… could we get that picture in the garden, when we do it? Maybe in front of the river? I just… I think I’d be able to relax more, if I had distractions around me….”

Jack couldn't help the surprise on his face. He perked up, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, yeah, of course...except maybe not in front of the river? I mean, _you_ can be in front of it, but don't have the river in the photo?" He sighed. "Ever since I got that 'not a stalker' letter, I've been trying to be careful I how much surroundings I show. The garden should be fine, but the river gives more of a location."

"Right... good point. I guess rivers might be a little easier to pick out here, huh? There's so many in the States... But this is a big one for you, I guess. You mentioned it before, right? And if anyone recognizes the spot..." Mark shook his head; clutching tighter to the sweats in his lap. "We'll avoid the river. The garden's good enough. And once we get it fixed up then it'll be really nice. A great place for vlogs..."

"Yeah, I mean, everyone knows I live in Athlone by now, and there are only so many houses by the river to pick from. You could sit under the big willow, though? The sun's out today, so it'll be nice and dry. Perfect for a selfie or something. It's not so much fun to vlog outside here. I mean, even when it's not raining, it's cold or windy and your fingers freeze without gloves, but then you can't really manipulate the camera..."

Jack pulled a face, remembering his Pokemon Go vlogs. They were huge hits with the community, but way too much hassle to make, and Jack always felt self-conscious wandering around with a camera. He wasn't much of a vlogger. Or an outdoorsy kind of guy, if he was being honest.

Mark nodded again. “I like the willows. We’re definitely keeping those. I haven’t seen them like this in a long time…. California has some, but they’re different. They’re kind of like bushes? It’s not the same at all. But we used to have them all over in Ohio. And they always grew by the rivers, so you could just lay out on the grass under them and watch the sun peek through the viney branches….”

Mark sighed warmly and drew his knees up against his chest. “The weather’s not so bad. It’s just more temperate than L.A. Like Cincinnati. Besides, with your fragile white skin, I figured you’d like this kind of weather….”

"Heh, yeah, I prefer the temperature here. I just don't like the wet and chill all the time. If it were dry more often, I'd complain less." Jack shrugged, giving a sheepish smile at being called out on his complaints. He loved Ireland, he really did. There was a _reason_ he hadn't just packed up and moved to the States at the earliest opportunity.

Suddenly, Mark’s excitement flickered away. "...well, we can take the selfie there, anyway..." he mumbled.

Mark was getting nervous again. Jack didn't like that. He fidgeted with his own bracelets, thinking. "What...What part of it is the worst? Is it the camera? Or the picture? Or letting other people see?"

Mark hugged his knees a bit tighter and stared down at his feet. “...being in front of a camera… it reminds me of them. Of the room. They would _always_ have a camera. I’d never know for sure if they were filming or not, unless they pointed it out specifically just to torment me more. And… and they didn’t tell me, about the website, until… until _weeks_ in. When they knew it’d be like a punch to the gut, because all this time they’d claimed it was just for them… for their sick ‘collection’... But in reality, everyone was… was seeing me….” His voice cracked and his lip wobbled, and then Mark was hiding in his legs again.

"If the camera's the problem...well, fuck that! They don't get to take that from you, Mark. We'll work on...Mark?"

Mark had covered his ears, cringing into his knees. “Nonononononono, no, no, go away, go away, goawaygoaway _goaway_ I don’t want it, I don’t, you’re lying, you’re lying they wouldn’t they don’t care it’s not… th-that’s not true, it’s not, **_go away…._** ” Mark squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered, his breathing falling apart as he scrabbled at his hair. _“Please don’t let them see this….”_

Mark was crumbling before Jack's very eyes, sinking in on himself and babbling out desperate pleas. It was like watching a nightmare, only Jack knew Mark hadn't fallen asleep. "Mark! Mark!"

Jack crawled toward Mark as the other man backed away, trying to stay in his line of sight. Mark wasn't hearing him, though, not with his hands clapped over his ears, and with his eyes shut, he couldn't see Jack either. Jack didn't want to touch; as much as he _wanted_ to pull Mark into the shelter of his arms, such a drastic move would have to be a last resort.

Jack fell back on an old standby: "TOP O' THE MORNIN' TO YA LADDIE! MY NAME IS JACKSEPTICEYE AND YOU ARE NOT IN THAT ROOM!"

Mark jolted and screamed, jerking away from his knees to stare at Jack in shock and fear. “J… Ja….” Mark’s breath stuttered and then he was coughing into the crook of his arm. “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry I… I just… I lost it, I lost, I couldn’t…. I-it shouldn’t be that… fuck, I suck…. Jack….”

"That one was my fault," Jack said, shaking his head. "That was...god, I _asked_ you to think about it, that was an incredibly stupid thing to do, I'm sorry, Mark, I'm sorry...I didn't mean to jump scare you like that, but you couldn't hear me..."

“I-it’s okay, it’s okay, I understand…. I don’t think… you could get through to me, a-any other way, right then, I….”

Jack ran a shaky hand through his hair, risking a glance at Mark. One day. Couldn't he go _one day_ without smashing his heart into the tiniest fragments?

"Mark, I...I really wish I could give you a hug right now. You look like you need one." Fuck, but _Jack_ needed one, after the day they were having. And it wasn't even lunch time. "I can...hold your hand?" He offered the touch, stretching out his hand toward Mark, wishing it didn't shake so badly. He didn't want Mark feeling even more guilty over what had just happened.

Mark scrabbled fingers through his hair and shook his head, huffing and puffing. “I wish I could hug you too. I _do._ I do, but I _can’t,_ and I’m so fucking sick of that- I just… I _want_ to, Jack. I really want to but if I do it my body will freak out again and I can’t… I can’t let it, it’s too damaged, it _hurts…._ ”

Mark scrubbed at his face, then reached out for Jack’s hand. He hesitated, drawing back, but then he surged forward and squeezed Jack’s fingers, scowling at their clasped hands. “...I’m sorry…. I’m so sorry, this isn’t… this isn’t your fault, Jack….”

"You don't need to be sorry, Mark," Jack murmured, letting Mark hold his hand for a minute before he curled his fingers around Mark's in return, squeezing very gently. It wasn't a hug. It was no where near a hug. It was the best Mark could do right now. "You're holding my hand. There's nothing wrong with that. It's great, actually. I know it doesn't _feel_ great...but Mark, it really is. One step at a time, right?"

Only this was the only step Mark had really managed as far as physical contact could go, and Jack had managed it on day one with Mark. Six weeks later, Mark had gone no further.

Mark sighed, his expression smoothing out a little before falling again. “...yeah… one step at a time….”

Maybe they did need to push. A little. But not here. Not in this room. It was too small, too white, too close to Mark's cell. And not with that mirror. Jack hummed to himself, looking at their linked hands and thinking.

"Mark...How about we go outside? You can finish getting dressed, I'll make some hot chocolate, and we can sit under the willow tree?" The less Mark's environment could be mistaken for that room, the calmer Mark would be. Jack hoped.

“Y… yeah. You know what? Yeah. I like that idea. Let’s do it.” There was a slight pause, and then Mark ducked his head. “...you’d better put extra marshmallows in mine.”

"Oh Mark," Jack said. "Oh Mark, I am _insulted_ that you think I'd _ever_ make hot chocolate without extra marshmallows. You do know me, right? We have met?" He was smiling though, not really insulted.

Mark gave a soft little scoff that was an approximation of a laugh. “Hey, cut me some slack, you’re usually a cakes and cookies sort of guy. How was I supposed to know marshmallows were part of your sugary repertoire?” He gave Jack’s hand another squeeze.

"Does it have sugar? Then yes, Jack eats too much of it." Jack squeezed Mark's fingers back, reluctant to be the first to let go. He should. He really should. If he didn't, they'd just sit here on the bathroom floor all day and Jack's plan would fail before he even set it in motion.

“Okay, okay, you’ve got me there.”

"Okay. Pants first. I mean, we do have a fence, so if you really didn't want to wear pants, you don't have to, but I don't think it's quite that warm. Pants, and then I'll make the hot chocolate while you fail to tame the floof, and then we can go outside." Jack looked back at their linked fingers. "And we can hold hands out there too, if you want to."

Mark gripped his pants still in his lap _._ “I’ll get them on. And if I still can’t walk right, I’ll give you a shout… not as loud as yours, though. My lungs might just collapse.” Mark glanced at their linked hands and flexed his fingers a bit. “...yeah. That’d be cool."

Jack took a deep breath, then uncurled his fingers and drew his hand back. "Okay. Shout if they come back. Remember your bracelet. I'll be down the hall, in the kitchen. Come find me when you're ready."

“All right. Be there in a minute.”

Jack backed away from Mark before he stood up, feeling his legs creak. Argh. He was not supposed to be feeling this old! He wasn't even thirty! He smiled at Mark anyway, then left the bathroom to give Mark some privacy.

Hot chocolate was easy enough to make the instant way. Jack turned on the kettle and measured the powder into two more mugs. Marshmallows were hidden in a cupboard. Jack grinned as he fished them out, snacking as he waited for the water to boil, keeping one ear open for Mark.

“If you eat all the marshmallows, what are we gonna put in our cocoa?” Mark was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Um…” Jack looked at the bag he was holding, then up at Mark, a little chubby-cheeked from all the marshmallow in his mouth. “More marshmallows?” He offered Mark the bag as he swallowed the lump of sugar and fluff just as the kettle clicked off.

“Jack, I get that you’re kind of on a sugar crunch right now, but that was a ‘me’ answer you just gave. Think about it for a second.” Mark shook his head but accepted the bag, snagging a couple marshmallows for himself.

“Oooh, or chocolate chips! Can you put chocolate chips in hot chocolate?” Jack poured the water into the mugs, just enough to wet the powder, and gave each a stir. This was the expert way of making hot chocolate. Once he had a chocolate slurry, he added the rest of the water, leaving a good inch at the top to stuff with marshmallows. “Don’t chocolate chips not melt or something? They stay solid in cookies…”

“I mean, you _can._ Technically, you can put anything in hot chocolate. But that doesn’t mean it’s gonna be good. Like hot sauce. Who would put hot sauce in cocoa? _Crazy people,_ Jack. Chocolate chips aren’t such a bad idea, but… yeah, they’d just sort of melt. Into more chocolate. Which you wouldn’t mind at all, I bet.” Mark kept snacking on the marshmallows even as he shook his head at Jack. “Baking chips in cookies is a lot different than just dropping them into hot liquid. It might take’em a while, but they’d melt. Just like the marshmallows. Which is why you need to suck’em up right away before they melt into puddles of foam.” Mark gave a nod.

“But like, if you did dark chocolate chips in hot milk chocolate? It’d be like chocolate with chocolate swirls, mmm…” Jack grinned at Mark, offering him a mug. “Or we could be putzes and never try it…”

Jack shrugged, because the question was moot. He had hot chocolate, and Mark had marshmallows. Mark was also on his feet and out of the bathroom. The day was definitely getting better. “Top us up!” He held the mugs out to Mark with a grin.

Next time Jack went to the shop, he was definitely buying extra marshmallows.

Mark blew a light raspberry at Jack’s suggestion as he filled their mugs with marshmallows. “Putzes? Really? Well that’s the _last_ thing I wanna be. We’ll try it next time. But you’ll have to make sure we’ve got the chips. And if it sucks, that’ll be all on you, buddy.” Mark shot Jack a teasing look and tied off the nearly empty marshmallow bag before accepting his mug from Jack.

Hot chocolate in hand, Jack led the way out back to the garden. He settled beneath the tree, leaning against the trunk of the willow. Mm. Hot chocolate, sunshine, a river, a tree...Mark. Good day. Very good day.

Jack shifted his mug into one hand, letting his other hand lie on the grass between their bodies, palm up, an invitation to Mark. If he wanted to. If he was ready. Jack hoped Mark took his hand. If they were going to try another baby step, they had to start with the one they already had gotten down. He took a sip of his hot chocolate as if he wasn’t waiting desperately for that touch.

Mark was a few beats delayed in joining Jack beneath the tree, but he was already calmer for being outside. He sat, stretching out his legs, and leaned against the tree before taking a sip of his cocoa and leaving chocolate on his upper lip. After a minute, Mark’s palm slid over Jack’s and their fingers slotted together. He gave Jack’s hand a squeeze. “I love this place.”

“Mm.” Jack hummed his agreement into his hot chocolate, letting Mark hold his hand and get used to the touch before he returned the squeeze, rubbing his thumb over Mark’s knuckle. He had held Mark’s hand so many times in the past month and a half. _For someone named the Ship Sinker, you sure did encourage this one…_

Jack took a larger drink of his chocolate to hide the twist to his mouth at that thought. He hated thinking about _them_ , letting them have any more time inside his head. It was bad enough they couldn’t leave Mark alone. He hated giving in to their manipulations too.

“My realtor thought I was crazy when I was willing to buy this place sight unseen. She made me walk through it before she gave me the papers to sign. I really didn’t care: three rooms and no current maintenance needs were fine by me, but when I saw this garden…” Jack sighed, blowing at a melting marshmallow before chasing it to the rim with his tongue, scooping it out of the hot chocolate. “I immediately thought of all the goats it could support.”

He squeezed Mark’s hand again, _joking, I’m joking!_ and smiled, looking out over the river. “I wonder if there are ducks. I bet there are. I wonder if we could feed the ducks from our own back garden. That would be so cool. We could send Felix pictures and tease him about how we’re kings of all the ducks. Make him jealous that he doesn’t have a riverfront house with ducks.”

Jack kept talking to soothe Mark, to keep him calm and relaxed. Mark looked much better out here, in the sun, in nature. He looked alive again. Not rejuvenated...but content. Jack glanced over at Mark as he described the terrors that were Irish swans. Mark seemed like he’d be okay with trying something new out here. “...hey Mark? Can I try something? You can always say no…”

“Huh? Wha?” Mark had been dozing off, lulled by Jack’s voice, his mug of hot chocolate resting against his chest. “You wan… oh. Uh, yeah. Sure. Okay. What… are you gonna try, exactly??” Mark sat up a little better, rubbing at his eyes with the hand holding his mug.

“Just this.” Jack set his mug aside so he could shift his body, scooting closer to Mark. They still weren’t touching anywhere aside from their entwined hands, but now there was barely an inch or two between their shoulders. Jack picked up his mug again and settled back against the tree. “Baby step,” he told Mark, glancing at the other man before turning his gaze back out to the river, letting Mark regain his bearings. “You can move closer if you want to, or not. Up to you. Or you can tell me to move away.” He sipped at his hot chocolate, hoping _nonchalance_ was what showed, and not _absolute fucking terror_ at the thought that this alone might trigger yet another panic attack, after all the time spent getting Mark calm. Mark was just staring at him.

It really was just a baby step, though, going from hand holding to leaning their arms and shoulders together. It wasn’t even a hug, just...more. More of what they were already doing. There was nothing about it to engulf Mark, hold him in place, make him feel trapped or hurt...Jack hoped. He looked down at his mug, gave it a little swirl and watched the last melting marshmallows spiral into the brown drink. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed. Maybe Mark was going to move away.

Mark tilted, just a little, bumping their shoulders together. Biceps and elbows and forearms followed soon after. He leaned into Jack’s side, squeezing his hand, and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Mark lifted his mug to his lips for a quiet sip. “Baby step.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, the amazing fanart here was made by [elktrkbarbarella](http://eltrkbarbarella.tumblr.com/)! She has been our staunchest supporter during the creation of this monster, cheering us on, laughing when appropriate, screaming when appropriate, and surprising us with fanart to make US scream (with joy).
> 
> Here's a link [directly to the post she made on Tumbler with the fanart](http://eltrkbarbarella.tumblr.com/post/153359963084/baby-step-heres-some-fanart), as per her request. :) Go check it (and her) out!
> 
> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	19. Day 147: Toy Chica

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack goes shopping and buys Mark a present.

“Mark? I’m back!” Jack called out to his housemate as he dragged the shopping bags into the kitchen, hoping Mark hadn’t suffered a breakdown in his absence. They were both getting better at dealing with Mark’s fluctuating mental stability, but the trip into town to pick up groceries was too much stress for Mark to handle, even with Jack at his side. It usually ended up as a solo affair, unless one of Jack’s family was in town and was able to accompany him (and drive). Frozen stuff needed to be put away first. Ice cream took precedence over finding Mark in the house, because ice cream was a good medicine for a bad head day.

“...welcome home, Jack. You need any help putting stuff away? I hope you remembered to get enough coffee this time.” Mark’s voice was quiet and still rough with sickness. Jack knew he hated the sound of pneumonia scratching up the once honey-smooth tone, but he still made himself speak.

Jack looked up as Mark entered the room, a bright grin exploding across his face. He _loved_ seeing Mark on his feet, moving around...doing more normal and human things than merely curling up in a ball or hunkering down in a corner when Jack wasn’t around. And Mark coming to greet him meant that either Mark hadn’t had a bad episode, or he had a short bad episode and was able to take care of himself while Jack was away. It wasn’t that Jack hated Mark’s presence, not in the least, but he wasn’t used to being relied upon so thoroughly by his usually headstrong and independent friend. Every successful shopping trip was a step further in Mark’s recovery.

“You can do the cupboards, I’ve got the cold stuff.” Jack shoved a large tote Mark’s way, then grinned again as he fished out bags of coffee from one of the totes by his feet. “Look, Mark,” he said, setting one, two, three bags of coffee on the counter, “just because I underestimated your caffeine intake _once_ doesn’t mean I’ll ever make that mistake again. I didn’t realize you were as bad as me for coffee.” Four, five, six. Jack had completely gone overboard on how much coffee they needed, because they were both severely addicted. “...I hope it all fits, or we’re going to have to stash it in the closet and then my mum will give me a very sour look when she finds it.” Seven, eight, nine.

Mark accepted the bag with only a little sputtered protest, moving automatically to start sorting the groceries and putting them away. He gave a quiet snort of laughter. “ _My_ caffeine intake?? _Au contraire,_ my good friend, for it is _you,_ the great Irish Coffee Fiend that cleared out our last stock in record time. I might be drinking coffee more than I used to but I’m nowhere _near_ your level of addiction. I think it’s time for an intervention.”

Jack ignored the quip at his drinking problem. Better coffee than alcohol. “Everything okay while I was out?” he asked nonchalantly, like he was just wondering if there had been a freak rainstorm or something in his absence, but they both knew Jack really was checking on Mark’s health.

“Nothing to report. The cabin didn’t catch on fire. Frogs didn’t fall from the sky. And no matter what it looks like, I swear there wasn’t a mass werecat invasion while you were gone. I defended the castle with my bare hands. You’re welcome.” There was a small smile on Mark’s face, which Jack interpreted to mean there really hadn’t been any sort of panic attack. He turned back to the stack of coffee on the counter.

Maybe they _should_ stash a bag in the closet, as an emergency coffee supply, just in case. Jack frowned thoughtfully, then snatched one of the bags back before Mark could take it. “I’m gonna find someplace to hide this one. For emergencies. Maybe in the shed.” Jack had a _shed_ now. And a _garden_. And _trees_. He had a little cabin in the countryside, just like he swore to himself he would never do again. At least this one was a bit more modern than his parents’, and quite a bit larger, with three bedrooms and a huge bathroom (by Ireland’s standards. It was absolutely dwarfed by Mark’s bathroom back in L.A.). Being an adult was _weird_.

“Why do you get to hide the emergency stash? Is it because you can stick it in your pot o’ gold and know I’ll never be able to find it? That’s cheating, Jack.”

Humor! Jokes! Jack wanted to clap and congratulate Mark and shower him with praise for his improvement. He didn’t. Drawing attention to Mark’s weaknesses rarely was the right thing to do, especially not when Mark was in such a good mood. “Hey!” he protested instead. “I know _exactly_ how much coffee _I_ need to get by between shopping trips! _Obviously_ , it’s the addition of you that screwed me up!”

Oh, oh crap, bad wording, bad wording. Jack hoped Mark didn’t fixate on the wrong words, it was just a joke, Mark, he didn’t mean having Mark around was a bad thing that was screwing Jack up, because it wasn’t…

Jack had been meaning to save this for later, but he needed to distract Mark, quickly, before Mark fully registered the words. “Hey, I, uh, got you something. I saw it at the store, and it reminded me of you, and so...I just bought it.” He grabbed one of the bags at his feet, pulling out a fluffy golden retriever plush toy. “Well, actually, it reminded me of Chica, but I figured you had to be missing her, and so... yeah. You could use another friend, and this one doesn’t even shit on the floor…” He gave the stuffed dog a pat before holding it out to Mark with both hands.

 _You deserve a friend you’re not scared to touch, or hold, or cry into, a friend you trust never to hurt you._ Mark was getting better at letting Jack close, but there were still times when Jack had to keep his hands very strictly to himself so as not to set Mark off. He knew Mark wasn’t actually afraid that _Jack_ would hurt him, but nothing Jack did would change the fact that he was a humanoid male, just like Mark’s attackers. When Mark was in the grips of a panic attack or bout of anxiety or flashback, it was hard to differentiate between the reality of Jack and the memory of _them_. This little dog, at least, was completely unlike anything Jack had seen in that room. Mark would be able to hold her without fear. _Should_ be able to.

Mark had started to give a faded smile at the mention of a present, inching closer to Jack. “Jack, you didn’t have to get me a…..” Mark’s voice trailed off as his eyes fell on the little dog, his entire body freezing in place. His eyes were wide and already vacant. Mark was already five thousand miles away.

“No.” It was soft and tight, barely verbalized at all even as Mark’s crooked hands mechanically lifted and took the stuffed dog from Jack.

“...Mark?” Whatever reaction Jack had been hoping for from Mark, that vacant-eyed horror was _far_ from it. It was one of the worst looks on Mark’s face, usually indicating a _very_ bad day was about to come. Jack had thought a tangible approximation of Chica would have comforted Mark, not driven him to despair.

Tears started to roll down Mark’s cheeks, slipping out from beneath his glasses, and a sob snagged in his throat as Mark suddenly hugged the dog against his chest, hiding his face in the plush fur, his entire body shaking. _“No….”_

Despair was the only word Jack had for the emotion that washed over Mark’s entire body. _That_ was the worst look on Mark’s face, and Jack knew Mark had completely blocked him out, lost in that bad place.

What could have triggered it, though? It was just a dog, just a stuffed dog... and yes, Mark had been forced to wear a collar similar to Chica’s for most of his ordeal, but he hadn’t shown any indication that dogs themselves were triggers (and he certainly didn’t mind stuffed toys, because he could be surrounded by all of Jack’s plush Sams that decorated the house without cringing).

 _I should have just given him Spiderloaf…_ But the plush retriever had been so close to Chica, the moment Jack saw her, he knew he needed to buy it for Mark.

It was too late to get the toy away, and Jack knew better than to try to touch Mark when he was like this. Mark very likely wasn’t hearing Jack’s voice, so Jack went for the next best sense: smell. He grabbed one of the bags of coffee and ripped it open, waving the pungent beans as close to Mark as he dared to get. “Mark, Mark, come back to me, Mark, you’re in Ireland, you’re safe here, you’re not in that room…”

The coffee didn’t seem to help. Mark’s sobs were only increasing, wet and raw, and he was sagging down, crouching on the floor and repeating “ _No, no, no_ ,” under his breath as he shook his head hard against the toy. “Ch-Chica…..”

Jack cursed his idiocy in four languages. What was he thinking, giving Mark a _dog_? After Mark had been treated like one for so long, to remind him so sharply of that time…

But this didn’t seem to be a normal panic attack. Jack followed Mark down, watching him helplessly, trying to understand. Mark didn’t usually cry so much when he was panicking. He was usually...well... _panicking_. Right now, Mark looked about nine parts broken to one part panicked.

Jack hated that he had a private scale for how badly Mark was panicking.

Jack sat on the floor in front of Mark, helplessly watching him sob into a stuffed dog, holding a bag of coffee. He set the coffee down between them, then placed his hands on the floor and crept them closer to Mark, not touching, just reaching out and letting Mark notice on his own terms. This was something he’d do at night sometimes, or in the bathroom, when Mark was in a particularly deep breakdown and Jack could only wait it out. When Mark couldn’t hear Jack’s words, Jack resorted to another method of communication: he sang. He had felt weird the first time he sat on his bathroom floor, reaching out to Mark without touching and singing drinking songs, but it had seemed to help Mark calm down. Irish lullabies worked the best, the songs his mother would sing to him when he was young, but this...this wasn’t like Mark’s night terrors. Irish might not be strong enough.

Jack ran his tongue over his lips, digging out rusty lyrics to the very first Korean song he’d actually learned how to sing: Sleep Well, My Child. His first girlfriend had taught it to him, years ago, and Jack had fallen in love with the haunting melody. Mark didn’t speak Korean, but his own mother did. Surely she had sung to a young Mark in her own language, just as Jack’s mother sang to him in Irish.

Jack sang the song all the way through, practically sagging in relief as Mark lifted his head and then scrubbed at his tears, his sobs growing calmer. _Welcome back..._ he didn’t say. Not now. Not with Mark talking again.

He was going to be YouTubing the shit out of Korean lullabies tonight.

“...I j-just…. I just m-miss her… s-so much…… a-and… and I’m never…. N-never g-going to see her again…. B-because of what _he_ did to her…. It’s not fair…. I-it’s not fair, Jack, it’s not… she… she didn’t do _anything…._ It’s all my f-fault….”

Jack let Mark say his piece, watching Mark’s fingers fidgeting around the dog, listening to what Mark was saying, what he _wasn’t_ saying...and a fresh bloom of horror began to blossom in his chest. “Who do you miss?” Jack asked quietly. “Chica? Are you...are you talking about Chica?” What _he_ did to her, never going to see her again, she didn’t do _anything…_ did Mark think Chica was dead? Did that bastard convince him of that? Hadn’t Jack told Mark that Chica was alive?

Mark nodded, sniffling and scrubbing at his face, still clinging to the stuffed dog. Jack racked his brain for anything he might have told Mark… _Tyler is looking after everything for you. He overnighted me your glasses..._

Everything. Jack had _meant_ Mark’s house and car and stuff from the convention _and_ Chica. But he hadn’t actually _specified_ Chica, and Mark… oh god, that _video_ , the one where they forced the collar on Mark the first time, and Jack hadn’t understood why just a collar was so completely terrifying to Mark, after everything he’d already endured. “Fucking hell...Mark, did he tell you she’s dead?”

When Tyler had come by Mark’s house, Chica had been missing her collar, but she had been otherwise in good spirits, if a bit lonely. He had taken her home with him, floor shits and all, and surely he would have let Jack know if anything had happened to her since then. Last Jack had heard, she was missing Mark something terrible and had found a sweatshirt of his that he must have left behind, and she carried it around with her everywhere. That was very heart-wrenching, but it was far from death.

Mark was choking on sobs, forcing his words out as he shook his head. “H-he said… said he tore her to pieces, said… th-that he beat her, before he got out his knife and that she… she just… she layed there, and took it, because she was st-starving and weak and lonely a-and…. And he hurt her, he hurt her _so bad_ and no one even knew, n-no one could find her body ‘cause of what he did to her, and… and she didn’t deserve it, Jack. Sh-she didn’t deserve any of it, he only attacked her to get to me, to beat me down, and it’s… she’s….” Mark’s voice broke, more tears rolling down his face, his mouth wobbling. “You _heard him,_ Jack! E-everyone did! I know that video was on the site- I know he was going to upload it, because he _told me._ He _told me_ he w-was going to show the world wh-what… what I really was, and…. Oh, God, Chica…..”

Jack was shaking his head before Mark had even finished speaking, pressing his hands over his mouth, his eyes wide and horrified. No _wonder_ Mark had reacted so badly to the dog! “There was no audio, Mark, he never put any audio on the videos, and we never saw him talking, just your reactions...Mark, _Chica’s not dead_. She’s not even hurt! Tyler went to your house, like, the very next day, and her collar was missing but otherwise, she was fine. You...had some extra holes in your walls, but _she_ wasn’t hurt. And he took her back to his place...I’m sorry, that’s what I meant when I said he was taking care of everything for you, she’s been staying with him. She misses you, she… wait, wait, I have a picture…” Jack fumbled in his pocket for his phone, his own hands shaking as he realized the enormity of what Mark was telling him. How long had it been? How long had Mark thought his beloved dog had been _murdered_ because of him?

“...he… he what??”

Mark’s voice was a harsh whisper, disbelief in those dark eyes. “She… she’s alive?? She is? You’re not… just saying that, to make me feel better, are you? B-because… that’d be a shitty thing to do, Jack, c’mon…. Don’t lie to me-”

“You know me better than that,” Jack said, not scolding Mark for his disbelief, just stating a fact. “I don’t like lying. And I’d never lie about this. About her. You know I love your fluffernutter.”

It took several tries for Jack to tap into Skype and pick the correct conversation, but he scrolled back through the messages until he found a picture Tyler had sent him a month into Mark’s kidnapping: Chica, curled up by the door of Tyler and Ethan’s L.A. home, her head resting on Mark’s sweatshirt. “Mark, look, she’s _fine_ , I swear she is, he’s taking care of her…” He thrust his phone toward Mark, forgetting to move slowly in his desperation to reassure Mark that the beautiful dog was okay.

Mark flinched at the thrust of Jack’s phone, but he snatched it out of Jack’s hands nonetheless. Jack pulled his hand back, remembering Mark’s boundaries a little too late. It seemed to be okay, though, as Mark focused on the picture and didn’t even notice how close Jack had been. “Check the date, read the conversation. It’s recent. Tyler’s talked about her since then.” Jack had nothing to hide in his Skype conversations with Tyler. He had tried to keep as optimistic and positive as he could, for his sake, and he suspected Tyler had been doing the same with him. It was his broken-hearted talks with Felix that Jack never wanted Mark to see, not that there was much evidence left in texts. They had mostly called whenever Jack needed to vent and scream and cry.

“Chica….” Mark’s voice was soft despite the rasp, that note of pure love shining through that was always present when he talked to his beautiful girl. He brushed his fingers over the image of Chica on Jack’s phone with a broken sob. “...she’s alive….” His mouth twitched, but then his eyes crinkled up, a smile, a _genuine_ , just-like-the-old-Mark smile pulling at his lips. Mark pressed the phone to his forehead, and for a moment all of the shadows were banished from his face.

Mark’s reaction to Chica’s picture was so painfully raw that Jack was almost in tears himself. He sat back, watching Mark scrutinize the evidence, wringing his hands together…

“Jack…. _Jack,_ I… thank you…..

“I’m sorry…. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, I-I just…. The way he told me, it sounded so _real._ Like he had just done it, a-and that’s why he had the collar, and…. I’m sorry. Of course you wouldn’t lie. I’m just… so _happy_ she’s okay.” Mark’s voice cracked again, but this time, it was definitely from joy. He scrolled through the conversation, stopping at several other mentions of Chica’s name, and wiped tears from his face as he smiled and smiled.

Mark _smiled_ , and it was like seeing the sun after a long Irish winter, because it wasn’t the weak excuses of happy expressions Mark had been trying to fake. That smile was _Mark_ , from the crinkle of his skin to the curl of his lips to the light in his eyes, and Jack felt something inside him crack, something he had bound so tightly whenever he was around Mark. He reached up, trying to hastily brush away his own tears before Mark could see, but there were too many, too quickly. “Oh god, Mark,” Jack whispered, giving up and sniffling as he wrapped his arms around himself in the hug he so desperately wanted to give his friend. “I’ve _missed_ you…” He couldn’t even reach for the phone Mark was trying to hand back. He needed a moment himself.

“Jack… Sean….” Mark looked uncertain, glancing at the tears on Jack’s face.

Jack tried to laugh off his tears, dragging his sleeve over his hand and dabbing at his face. “Sorry, I’m just, it’s been…” He couldn’t stop _crying_ , dammit, and this wasn’t even sad! It was a huge breakthrough! Mark was _happy_! But every time Jack wiped at his eyes, it seemed only to release another flood. Was this how Mark felt? It was so damn embarrassing, trying to be stoic and failing so miserably.

He huffed, frustrated with himself, trying to look up at the ceiling, at anything other than Mark and the smile that was no longer on his face, replaced with uncertainty and concern. _Damn damn fucking damn!_ Mark had finally started to come out of his shell, and Jack had to go and chase him back in with his own untimely tears…

Jack was _not_ expecting a sudden armful of Mark, the wet dog squished between their chests. He squeaked, suddenly tense himself, lifting his arms and not knowing what to do with them. “Mark…”

“It’s okay, Jack… I’m here….”

Mark was talking, and he even _sounded_ like his old self again, and he clutched at Jack and despite using Jack’s soap for a month, he smelled like Mark, and boundaries be damned, Jack folded onto Mark’s broad shoulder with a sob, his arms curling around Mark’s back. “Tell me when you need me to let go,” he managed to gasp out, returning Mark’s clutching grasp, trying to not pull at Mark’s shirt even as he desperately wanted to make sure Mark was never leaving his arms again. _Don’t ever tell me to let go…_

Forget crying. Jack was full-on sobbing into Mark’s shirt and hating every minute of it. Mark was holding him and rubbing his back, tauter and more hesitant than he ever had been before, but it was also so much more than Jack had gotten from _anyone_ in a month. Jack cried because he missed Mark so much. He cried because he hadn’t even realized how badly he had needed this. He cried because so much had been taken from Mark, that even this, something that used to be so natural and easy between them, a hug, always a hug, a hug when they met, a hug good-bye, a hug for pictures, whether private or public, hugs in the house, on the street, in the airport...they had always been able to hug, and it had so quickly become normal for them, not weird or gay or anything like that…(except when the Septiplier shippers started going crazy).

Mark’s fingers brushed over his back again, and Jack hiccuped into Mark’s shoulder, fighting to rein in his tears. He had managed to get his sobs under control, still clinging to Mark, when he felt Mark lean in close and whisper.

_I’ll never let go, Jack…_

It was exactly what Jack had wanted to hear, had _needed_ to hear. The words slid from his ear to his heart, cupping it in warmth and familiarity, and…

And…

Jack cracked his eyes open, hating how his lashes gummed together when he’d cried too much. “...did you just quote _Titanic_ at me?” he asked. He didn’t even need Mark to answer. He had totally set that line up, lobbed it nice and easy at the other man, and his tears were still flowing but he was giggling helplessly into Mark’s neck, his arms squeezing tighter. “Oh god. You dork. I love you.”

Jack’s heart fell to his stomach when he heard those three words slip out, pressed against Mark’s skin. He couldn’t help but tense up again, but Mark brushed right past Jack’s untimely admission, pulling closer as if Jack hadn’t said anything at all. “There we go….”

Jack breathed out over Mark’s back, closing his eyes again. Maybe Mark was just interpreting it platonically? Jack could totally make a case for that. Even though that wasn’t the truth at all.

Jack hated lying, especially to Mark, but this was one thing he could never bring himself to be honest about.

“You left me no choice. We had to abandon ship.” Mark huffed and rested his chin on Jack’s shoulder. “You big dummy. All this time you were doing your best to stay strong for me, but who was staying strong for you? I should’ve known you were hurting too. Even if it wasn’t in exactly the same way. I’m sorry….”

“I’m pretty sure Felix is sick of my voice,” Jack mumbled, but Mark wouldn’t let him protest.

“Now shut up and get on my debris raft, Irish DiCaprio.”

Jack shook his head against Mark’s shoulder. “Can’t. I’m being held on to too... _Irish DiCaprio_?” Jack’s tears had finally all but stopped as he gave a snort at the name. “Oh, Mark, if you think I’m Ireland’s answer to Leonardo, you haven’t seen nearly enough of this country.”

Tentatively, Jack risked moving one arm, skimming it up Mark’s back, letting him feel where he was going.

“I’ve seen enough. I’ve seen _you._ ”

Jack didn’t want to surprise Mark, but he did want to press his fingers into Mark’s hair, letting himself cup the back of Mark’s head, their embrace growing more intimate with every new position. He had hugged Mark before, so many times, but this level of cuddling was unfamiliar territory. “...I’m sorry. I’m sorry I just broke like that, you shouldn’t have to deal with me on top of everything, but...but thank you.” The last words were just a whisper, Jack turning his own head to touch his lips to Mark’s hair.

As soon as Mark started tensing in his arms, Jack knew he’d pushed too far, too fast. He opened his hold as Mark pushed away, pulling his hands back to his own lap and shifting back to give Mark space, no matter how much he ached to keep holding the other man.

“It’s… it’s not _dealing with you,_ that’d be like saying _you’re_ dealing with _me._ ” Mark wasn’t looking at him, but he didn’t sound like he was panicking. “It’s okay to break, sometimes. It’s good for you. And… and I want to help. I do. I don’t want you burying all your pain away. Okay? We can lean on each other. We can. I might need a little more support sometimes but I can be there for you, too. Promise.” Mark cleared his throat and patted Jack’s shoulders before shifting further back.

“ _You’re_ dealing with you,” Jack pointed out, pretending like this had been a perfectly normal time to break the hug and not at all triggered by Mark getting triggered. “Mark, you’ve got so much crap...I can’t even begin to _imagine_ how you feel right now. Like the Chica thing...I didn’t even realize…” He twisted his fingers together, ducking his head. “I’m not alone here, Mark. My family’s not that far away, and I talk with Felix all the time, and...I’ve got supports. I just…” _don’t like burdening them._ Jack’s family sort of understood what was going on, but they didn’t really get the whole shipping thing, and _that_ had been such an awkward conversation, explaining to his father that yes, Mark had been kidnapped because the internet thought they were boyfriends, but no, they weren’t boyfriends, but yes, Mark was one of his best friends, _yes_ , Mark was the guy who got him started with YouTube and shouldn’t you be grateful because Jack was happy and successful now because of that and _no_ , Dad, they aren’t dating, Jack’s not in love with Mark, he’s just really worried…

Felix, at least, got it. BroKen was one of the highest contenders for potential next targets, if you asked the people who were actually betting on that sort of thing. He could imagine himself in Jack’s place, and he understood what it meant to connect with another YouTuber enough that your collective fandoms saw a relationship. Felix didn’t understand Jack’s pain, having never experienced it himself, but he was good at listening to Jack and trying to talk him through the stickier situations.

“You didn’t know…. You didn’t, and now you’ve told me. I’m so fucking happy about Chica, Jack, you have no idea…. And you did that for me. Maybe you’ve got support systems a little closer to home. That’s good. I’m glad to hear that. But none of them are _here_ right now. None of them are _living with you._ A phone or Skype call isn’t the same as face-to-face….” Mark’s smile had faded, but his voice wasn’t wobbling too badly. They’d weathered this storm.

“I’ll…” Jack ran a hand through his green hair, looking away from Mark. “I really don’t want to make things worse for you, Mark. I don’t want to make you feel bad. I mean, I know I _do_ , but...I really don’t want to.” He couldn’t promise he’d break in front of Mark again, or open up to him. He couldn’t lean on Mark when Mark was barely limping along himself. “I’m sorry.”

“...why is there a bag of coffee half-spilled all over the floor?”

“Huh?” Jack looked around at Mark’s abrupt topic change, blushing a little when he saw the mess on the floor. “Oh, um...it was an emergency?” He sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face and then running his fingers through his hair again. As soon as he did it, he knew he had just made things worse: he needed a haircut. The meadow on his head always floofed and stuck out weirdly when it got too long. A lot of his videos were starting to turn up comments about it. That was a _definite_ sign he needed to get it cut and probably redyed.

“I didn’t want to touch you, and you weren’t hearing me,” he said, explaining his reasoning. “I figured…coffee was a positive smell that wouldn’t have been part of whatever was triggering you. Also, I was holding it already.” Jack glanced over at Mark.

That was part of the truth behind Jack’s hesitation to open up to Mark. As much as he’d hated sobbing into Mark’s shoulder, he hadn’t felt better in _months_. To have Mark sitting there with him, holding him, reassuring him...Mark was right. Face-to-face was best. _Mark_ was best.

But Mark was exhausting to talk to these days. Jack had to keep himself tightly reined in so he didn’t accidentally touch Mark, clap him on the shoulder, punch him in the arm, bump his side as they walked. He had to monitor everything he did, to stay calm and slow, to keep from startling Mark. He had to pay careful attention to his tongue, to make sure he didn’t say a bad word or phrase something poorly. The first time Jack had called Mark “Markimoo” in the hospital...

Well, _that_ was an experience Jack would never repeat.

As much as Jack _wanted_ to be able to open up to Mark, it was so tiring just being considerate of Mark when Jack was feeling okay. He didn’t know how much damage he’d manage to cause if he lost emotional control and Mark wasn’t riding a high of learning Chica wasn’t brutally murdered.

And how could Jack ever explain that to Mark without making Mark feel bad? It was hardly his fault that his torture had lined up so many triggers Jack kept blundering into. Mark wanted to help him, and Jack understood that, he really, truly did, but Jack couldn’t possibly risk Mark getting hurt worse. Not by him.

“You tried using the enticing smell of ground up Java to break through my funk?” Mark somehow managed to make it sound like he was laughing even through his surprise.

“I have no idea why it spilled. _I_ didn’t do that…”

Mark floofed his own hair, almost laughing. “Well, at least you tried. No use crying over spilled coffee. One of us probably just knocked it over and didn't realize. Luckily we have about a dozen more bags.”

“If we had a goat, it could clean up the coffee for us.” Jack didn’t really want a goat. Goats were evil little monsters. Mark had no idea, city boy that he was. But clinging doggedly to his desire for a goat made Mark exasperated in the best sort of way, so Jack kept it up. If Mark ever actually caved, Jack would need to come up with an excuse why a goat would be a very bad idea.

“Now you want it _in the house?_ ” Mark floofed his hair again and huffed when it flopped back in his face. “In other news: we need to do some serious landscaping. And I don't mean the garden this time. Unless you still wanted to get that goat to trim _your_ lawn.” He reached over and poked at Jack’s green bush.

“Oh god, if _you’re_ noticing my hair, then I _definitely_ need to get it taken care of.” Jack tugged at the green tips and then blew upwards to make it flutter off his face. “Seems like half my comments are all about the hair these days. People are suggesting I braid it, or do a man-bun...it’s not long enough for a man-bun. _Yours_ , maybe…”

Jack eyed Mark’s hair speculatively, then eyed Mark.

“I think you should do a manbun-braid. Do your little knot on top then braid the excess in the back like some Grecian princess. And dye half of it green. But only half.”

Jack twisted a finger in his hair, twirling it into a little bun on top of his head. "Nah, not long enough for even _one_ of those. And if I let it grow any longer, I'll be eating it in my sleep. Jesus, it's a mess." He sighed, letting his hand drop.

“I'll pass on the manbun myself. It'd ruin my street cred.” Mark joked.

“...do you want to try? Not the man-bun, though we could try that too. Getting it cut properly.” Hair was sensitive for Mark, Jack knew. He had seen the pictures, heard Mark’s stammered apologies and half-sobbed explanations. Mark had been grabbed, jerked around by his hair so many times in that room. He had been petted like a dog, held in place against those bastards, posed for pictures...Jack should have remembered that before he touched Mark’s hair. No wonder Mark had pulled back so quickly. Haircuts were another incredibly sensitive realm. A nurse had managed to give Mark a bit of a trim at the hospital, with Jack holding his hands and talking loudly to him the whole time, but Mark was definitely looking shaggy even for him.

“I think...the lady who does my green is really sweet. If I asked her to do a house call for you, she might. I mean, she wouldn’t be able to dye you again, if that’s what you wanted, but maybe it would be easier to handle if we were here? Or...or would the salon actually be easier, with all its noise and smells?” Jack rubbed his hand over his bicep thoughtfully. Getting Mark out of the house was always a challenge, but it was also something Mark needed to get used to again. “Obviously, I’d be there with you whichever route you choose.”

"What, is it cookie scented or something?" Mark joked, but he was obviously giving the idea some thought. His expression tightened, and he shook his head after a moment. “I don't… don't think the salon is a good idea. Right now. Maybe next time…. I can go without hair dye for a while. I just want it cut. If… this friend of yours, could come and do it…. It would be a lifesaver. I think if you were there, here, with me… I could get through it.”

Jack privately agreed. "I can't promise anything for her, but I'll set up an appointment for myself and I'll ask. I'll even give her my very best smile and bat my eyes and compliment her skills with scissors just to butter her up for you."

"...does she like dumplings?"

Forget the hairdresser. _Jack_ perked up at Mark's question. "You'll make dumplings?" Mark was not exaggerating at all about the amazing deliciousness of his mother's dumpling recipe. Mark could cook other things, but Jack had never thought something savory could be his favorite foods until Mark had made them for him when he came to visit. "Doesn't matter if she does or not. She _will_. I'll convince her. She comes over for dinner and gives you a haircut. You'll get a chance to meet her before she gets her hands on you. She gets to meet Markiplier. I get dumplings. Everybody wins."

Mark fiddled sheepishly with his collar. "Well, I might need to practice some more in the kitchen first... But yeah. I don't think it'd be too much of an issue. Just need to get the ingredients." He almost-laughed again, shaking his floofy head. "Sounds good, but just remember to save some for _her_. And me. It's about time I got some of _my_ mom's home cooking."

"Just get me a list, and I'll take a special shopping trip just for you." Jack grinned at Mark. "I'll be nice and share, since we're trying to butter her up. This time. You just make sure you make enough for all of us."

"Jesus. Looks like you'll have to buy in bulk, then. Better be ready to lug all those bags back. Work for your food, Jack. Break the stigma of the Irish string bean."

"Hey, I'm skinny but I'm strong! Don't underestimate these Irish muscles!" Jack flexed for Mark, making an exaggerated show of faux strength to coax another smile to Mark's face

"Oh my, such muscles. Very beauty. Much stronk. Swon." Mark pretended to swoon dramatically, but he was smiling again.

They were such dorks. Jack stuck out his tongue at Mark, scrunching up his nose a bit. "Told ya the Irish sexiness is overwhelming..."

"Oh yeah. Totally overwhelmed right now. You should change your intro. Something like..." Mark cleared his throat and put on an absolutely horrendous rendition of Jack's intro. "TOP O' THE MORNIN' TA YE LADDIES, MY NAME IS JACKSEXYEYE AND TODAY WE'RE JUST GONNA TALK ABOUT HOW FOOKIN' RIPPED I AM!!! JOOST LOOK AT THESE PLUS ONE HUNDRED PECS." And then Mark flexed and winked.

Jack's mouth went dry. Bad enough he'd let 'I love you' slip out earlier today, but now Mark had to go and do _that_? Right in front of him? Thank god Mark has also tried to impersonate Jack's accent and failed miserably, or else Jack might have been forced to deal with a less than platonic reaction. That damn wink shivered down his spine all the same, combined with the sight of Mark’s rapidly returning muscles. _Jesus._ He'd need to take some time to himself in the bathroom tonight. "Biceps," he managed to say without a croak to his voice. "It's plus one _biceps_. You're the one with the pecs." And, if Jack was being honest, the biceps as well. And abs. And ass. Mark's body was slowly returning to him, and he looked _good_.

"It's okay Jackaboy. You'll get there someday. Just keep eating your vegetables. Maybe someday you'll have pecs people can play like bongos too. But maybe we should get off the floor. Y'know, before our butts go numb?"

"Not all of us can be blessed with phenomenal genes like you, Fischbach," Jack protested.

Mark primped. "What can I say? German and Korean must be the magical perfect combination."

"Seriously. You and your brother are both unfairly genetically superior to the rest of us mortals." Jack grumbled more than he had to. He had only met Thomas via video calls with Mark, but the family resemblance was definitely there. Mark was the more handsome brother, Jack privately thought, but Thomas wasn't half bad himself.  
  
Mark snorted. "Don't tell Thomas that. I might preen, but he just gets flustered. You should've seen what happened the last time someone came up to his booth and shot him a pick up line about his looks. I thought I was gonna become an only child."  
  
"I'm totally going to tell him he's hot next time he calls," Jack said with an evil grin. "How does he feel about guys hitting on him?"  
  
"Jack no, please, I love my brother very much and would like to keep him in a solid state of being." Mark smiled. "Well he's not into guys, but he doesn't have a problem with that sort of thing. He just gets even more flustered because then he has to awkwardly tell them he's not gay. It's hilarious. I saw a dude honestly take extreme pity once and just sort of run off after giving a shitty excuse. I didn't let Tom live it down for _days_ afterwards."  
  
"Aww, not even to tease?" Jack asked, pouting at Mark. "I mean, it's not like I'm _actually_ into him. He's just been trying to be all big brother on me too, so I figured some double-teaming little brother payback was only fair..." Jack absolutely related to the need to annoy older siblings. As the baby of five, he had perfected the art.  
  
Mark actually laughed that time. "Sounds like Tom. It's not like he goes around taking every younger guy under his wing or something but if he cares about you and you're not older than him, watch out. Big brother mode." Despite his words, Mark obviously loved his brother. "I guess a little teasing couldn't hurt. He's been free of mine for so long now. Time to remind him about just how annoying we younger sibs can be."  
  
"Totally doing that next time you give him a call. Let me know, and I'll just happen to pass through the room and comment on his looks..." Jack had to chuckle himself at the thought.  
  
"You'd better be prepared for sputtering that's on par to an old car with a bad exhaust and extreme pitch fluctuation."  
  
"I look forward to it." Jack's grin was pure baby brother evil.

He hopped to his feet and offered Mark his hands. Not because Mark _needed_ help up, but because Jack liked being helpful. "I'll get a broom and clean up the coffee. Think you can put away the rest of the groceries with the help of Chica Junior?"

Mark eyed Jack’s hands, then accepted them and let Jack help him to his feet. He almost dropped the stuffed dog in his lap, but he flailed and caught it, immediately cradling it close with a bittersweet smile. "Yeah. Chica loves putting away groceries."

Mark still sounded sad as Jack went to get the broom, but he had done all he was able to. "Maybe we can give Tyler a call," he suggested, coming back in and dropping the dustpan by the spilled coffee. "Have him put her on? I bet she'd love to hear your voice again."

Mark looked over with wide, eager eyes and almost a grin. "Really?? Yes! Definitely. As soon as possible. I'd give my left leg, right now, to see my little Chica-bica again."

Jack laughed at Mark's enthusiasm, setting a foot on the dustpan to hold it in place as he brushed the pile of spilled beans into it. "How about you hold onto your left leg and give Tyler a text, see if he’s awake yet?"

"All right. I'll hang on to all my limbs but only for you." Mark dug out his phone and texted one-handedly. "What time is it even over there?? I've been in Ireland too long. I'm losing my sense of Pacific."

"Subtract eight hours," Jack answered automatically. He'd been converting time zones for YouTube so long, he knew exactly what time it was where his friends lived. "So, since it's three now, that puts them at...seven am."

Mark stuck his tongue out. "Seven am. He’s probably still passed out from late night gaming." He sighed. "Guess it'll have to wait for a few hours at least... Damn his fucked up sleeping schedule."

Jack bent down to pick up the dustpan. About half the bag was salvageable, but the rest had ended up on the floor. "You could just call him and screw up his schedule. It's for Chica. Who could say no to her face?"

"Tyler sleeps like the dead. I never had to worry about being too loud if it was late or early in the morning. I doubt his phone would wake him up- if he even has the ringer on."

"We'll just have to yell at him for being so inconsiderate of our time zone when he eventually wakes up."

"It's all right. If Chica's been staying with him, she's probably been giving him Hell for me. Especially since I've been gone. Chewed up furniture and floor poops for days."

"See, that's a good thing! You haven't had to clean up dog shit in months. Progress!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you guys were all going for this outcome! We love Chica too much to hurt her. Some of you have figured it out by now, from looking at the tags.
> 
> We'd never kill Chica without tagging it! Her abuse was fictional in this work of fiction! Because she was never hurt, Jack never thought he needed to mention her to Mark, and I didn't want to spoil this revelation for you.
> 
> Chica's alive and safe with Tyler and Ethan. Everyone can read now. Even Mark.
> 
> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	20. Night 147: Another Night, Another Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack didn't even bother trying to go to bed.

Mark went to bed, but Jack stayed up, answering comments and reblogging fanart as he listened to Korean lullabies through his headphones, trying to sing along to commit the words to memory. He paused on a picture someone had drawn of Mark and Jack hugging Chica.

 _Chica._ Jack hadn't realized how dark the Ship Sinker had gone. Beating Mark, _raping_ him, publicizing his humiliation and torture hadn't been enough for those sick monsters. They had to tell Mark that they'd done the same to his beloved dog, ripped her to pieces and only saved her collar, forced around Mark's throat. No wonder Mark was so tangled up in that thing. If he thought it was all that was left of Chica…it might have brought him comfort in that room. A reminder of what they had done to her, yes, but also a reminder of soft brown eyes and warm doggy kisses, of golden fur and a wagging tail.

A stuffed toy didn't hold a candle to the real thing. Jack drummed his fingers on his desk, then clicked reblog and left a quick comment-- _This is really awesome, thanks! #lifesaver #ideas_ \--before pulling up Skype. Thomas Fischbach.

“Hey. Got any plans the week of June 28?”

Mark's birthday was coming up...his 28th! Golden birthday! Jack grinned at the thought of the present he was considering. Golden for the golden. He quickly opened a new tab while waiting for Thomas' response, typing “bring a dog to Ireland" into his search bar.

Mark loved Chica. Mark missed her. Thomas missed Mark. Out of everyone Jack knew Mark was close to, Thomas had seemed the most understanding, most accepting of Mark’s needs. If Jack wanted Chica to come to Mark's side, she'd need a human accomplice. Who better than Mark's brother?

Rabies shots, deworming treatments...It all looked completely doable. And of course they weren't going to _sell_ her. Excitement bubbled up in Jack's chest as he saw the pieces clicking into place. All he had to do was secure Thomas’ cooperation...and somehow, Jack doubted that would be hard at all.

It took about fifteen minutes before Jack’s Skype tab started blinking at him with a new message from Thomas.

“You mean besides trying to figure out how to celebrate my baby brother’s birthday without him and simultaneously stopping my moms from swimming across the Atlantic to hunt him down? Just got back from brunch with them. I'm sure you can imagine how the table talk went.”

Jack could imagine all too easily. Mark's mother and step-mother were lovely and overbearing, clearly viewing Jack as some sort of Irish devil keeping their son from them. “What if I offered you a break from dealing with them?” Jack typed back. “You do me a huge favor, and I'll give you an all-expenses paid trip to the lovely city of Athlone.” Jack's bank account was rather drained at the moment from buying a house with cash, but he was far from broke. He could afford a ticket for Thomas and hosting him either on the couch or in a hotel for a week. “I need to check with Mark first, but I think he'll agree. He misses you.”

There was a pause. Jack’s offer had probably caught Thomas off-guard. After all, the Irishman had been so _emphatic_ about making them wait to see Mark. Thomas had likely figured he'd be coming across land and sea _with_ his moms at Jack’s first notice. Not alone. (Sort of.)

“That depends. What exactly is this ‘huge favor’ you just sort of sped through to give me the down low on what _I_ want? I don't have to murder anyone, do I? Please tell me you haven't secretly been part of the Irish mafia all this time.”

“Anyone I'd want murdered, you would too,” Jack answered. The Ship Sinkers were the only ones Jack truly hated so much as to wish death upon. He hesitated, then typed again.

“They told him Chica was dead. That they cut her to shreds to get her collar and shove it around his neck. I didn't know until today. I showed him pictures, but…” It wasn't the same as actually having the dog there. Thomas had to know how much Mark loved his pup.

“Oh God.”

Jack copied the url to the site he'd found about importing dogs to Ireland and pasted it into his chat. “Can you bring her?”

It took a long time before Thomas typed back a response. “I can't believe those motherfuckers. They didn't hesitate to use everything and anything they knew about him against him…. God damn it.” There was another brief pause. “I understand that you want to show Mark that Chica is really alive and well. Honestly, they'd be good for each other. Chica’s been pretty miserable over here too. But shipping a dog halfway around the world…. Are you sure it'd be okay for her? She's not exactly skittish or anything but that's hours and hours of air travel and transferring flights…. I don't want to make her sick.”

Mark wouldn't forgive _either_ of them if something happened to his precious companion. “I think him seeing her again would be worth any risk.” Jack chewed at his lip. He worried about it too. There were always horror stories of pets dying on plane flights. If that happened to Chica… “She'll have to be dewormed right before she comes over, so maybe the vet can give a sedative too, to keep her stress low? And I'll see what arrangements can be made to make sure she has the very best care on the plane.”

Thomas took forever to respond again. Clearly, he put more forethought into his decisions than his younger brother. “All right. I'll do it. I trust your judgment on what's best for Mark right now because of the circumstances. But if anything happens to Chica, _you're_ breaking the news to him. Since it was your idea. I know Chica’s vet; I'll take her personally and ask about the sedative. We _need_ to keep this secret tighter than Fort Knox, though. If our moms find out…. We’ll need to ship _Mark here_ for my funeral. Not exaggerating. You're lucky I'm a webcomic artist and thus have free reign over my own hours. Might bring my tablet to work on anyway.”

“I don't even want to tell Mark Chica's coming. Just in case we can't pull it off. I've got the best internet connection Ireland can offer. Bring whatever you need to keep your moms from finding out.” Nothing would happen to Chica. Jack wouldn't allow it. If something did, he'd take himself out back and shoot _himself_.

Jack sat back in his chair and took a deep breath before putting his hands back on the keyboard. “He didn't know there was no audio. I don't know what else they told him. What other lies.”

“...I think there's a lot we’ll never be privy to. About the conversations that went down in that room. However many of them Mark can remember, he has no obligations to share with anyone. Not even his therapist. Important as it might be to understand what'll make things worse for him, it's his trauma. And no one should be allowed to force him to do anything with or about it. If he wants to spill, then we'll be there to listen.”

Jack sighed, rubbing his hand through his hair. “I'm not gonna ask. Not gonna make him say anything. But if I'd only KNOWN, I could've told him about Chica months ago. It only came out cause I bought him a stuffed dog toy and he fucking SHATTERED. I don't want that to happen again. I don't want him to suffer more than he has to again.”

“That's one of the reasons we've- well, I've- trusted him with you for this long, Jack. You're not stupid. You can see where the boundaries are. I know it's hard. I know keeping yourself in check and not pushing too hard, even when you _know_ it could help him, makes you want to rip your hair out sometimes. Working through recovery isn't easy for the support either. But we work through it with them nonetheless. Because we care, and we want to see them get better. And in the end, it is _so_ worth all the heartache and Hell. Every mistake and setback. Think about it, Jack.

“How far has Mark come from day ninety?”

“He hugged me today.” It was weird, but Jack felt like he could talk to Thomas better than he could with his own brothers. At least about Mark. Felix helped Jack vent, but Thomas helped him cry. “And he smiled, he, MARK, he smiled and he looked just like he used to. JUST like it. Not broken at all. After he found out about Chica...that's why she needs to be here. He needs her.”

It was difficult to convey tone in text, but Thomas was still managing to pull off supportive big brother with words alone. “He hugged you, _and_ he smiled. Whether that was because of Chica or not, that's progress, Jack. And he couldn't have made it so far, so fast without you. Never forget to take a moment and step back if things start getting too rough for you. Take some deep breaths, and look at the bigger picture. Look at the good that's been done. No matter how small, it'll _always_ outweigh the mistakes. I promise.

Jack reached up, wiping away some stray tears about the memory of earlier. “It is hard. It's so fucking hard. But he won't give up, so I can't.”

“And that attitude is exactly why I'm coming to Ireland with Chica. Just give me the details and get the house prepared. I'll take care of everything on my end.”

“If you stay with us, you'll have to be on the couch. Mark has the guest room. It's a nice couch though. I've taken tons of naps on it. Or I could get you a hotel room. Your choice.” Jack figured Thomas would prefer to stay with them, but he figured he would offer anyway.

“I'll be fine with the couch. I usually end up passing out on mine half the time anyway. I'd rather be closer to Mark while I have the opportunity.”

“Thanks, Thomas. You've been a big help to both of us.”

“What are big brothers for, right? Really though. You've been a big help to Mark. And that's something I'll always be grateful for. Our moms too, even if they aren't really showing it right now. Anything I can do within reason, just let me know.”

“Just help me get Chica over here for now. I'll let you know the other rules when you actually get here.”

Jack paused, then added “Oh, but if there's anything really American that Mark loves, you can bring him that too. He has griped about how we don't have Lucky Charms over here.”

“Lucky Charms and Fuego chips. Got it.”

“Americans are weird,” Jack typed back to Thomas, shaking his head slightly. They were so…

That was a scream. _Fuck_ , that was Mark screaming again. Jack grimaced, letting his head thunk onto his desk. Without even looking, he typed a sign off to Thomas. “He’s having a nightmare. Gtg”

Every night. It happened _every damn night._ Jack hoped that finding out about Chica might mean that Mark had _one_ night of respite from his night terrors...but apparently not.

Setting his computer to shut down, Jack left his recording room and paced heavily down the hall, hitting every creaky floorboard. He headed for the kitchen, where he set the kettle boiling, banging mugs on the counter and rattling the silverware drawer as he prepped two cups of thick, sweet tea. This had become their nightly ritual. Mark screamed himself awake. Jack made them tea loud enough for Mark to know he wasn’t alone, giving Mark a few minutes to pull his composure back together. Then Jack would sit with Mark until the other man managed to fall asleep again, talking about video games or YouTube or their friends, or singing songs or telling stories. Mark hadn’t seen much anime or read much manga, so Jack could tell him those stories, doing as many voices as he could manage to get Mark smiling as his heavy eyes slid shut.

And Mark said he watched too much anime. Psh. No such thing.

Jack carried the two mugs back to Mark’s room and knocked on his door, same as he did every night. “Mark? You awake?” He always waited, always let Mark decide when he wasn’t too shattered to be seen.

“Unfortunately….” The reply was hoarse and quiet, but Mark didn’t sound like he was a hysterical mess. “I’m just giving you a heads up, if I trip over the mugs again in the morning I’m putting them in your bed.”

Jack opened the door and entered, shaking his head slightly. “You mean you’re gonna make me go _all the way back to the kitchen_? After getting us both nice and sleepy? Just don’t walk so close to the wall, and you’ll be fine!”

“The kitchen isn’t _that_ far away, you big baby. You walk back to your bed, don’t you? _Fine._ I’ll just trip and break my neck then. Bet that counts as like, premeditated murder or something.” Some tension leaked out of Mark’s shoulders the moment Jack entered the room, and Mark pulled his hand away from the green rubber bracelet around his wrist.

Jack sat on the edge of Mark’s bed, like usual, and offered him one of the mugs. This one was a jack-o-lantern. Jack’s had a cheery kitten in a Santa hat on it. Maybe they needed to wash the mugs if they were dipping into the holiday sets…

Mark accepted the offered mug and gave a little snort at the decorations. “If _you’d_ taken the Halloween one I would’ve had to call you out on terrible usage of puns.” Mark took a big sip from his mug. He’d long since stopped complaining about being offered tea in the middle of the night.

“Hey, cut me some slack here! I’m not _Wade_!” Their friend’s overuse of bad puns was legendary. If he had been Jack, surely he would have taken the jack-o-lantern mug. “I can’t believe you’d make me walk _all the way to the kitchen_ and then _all the way back to my bedroom._ On top of being sleepy. Geez. You really did buy into that whole ‘I never sleep’ schtick.” Jack sipped at his tea and drew his other leg up, sitting cross-legged as he faced Mark.

“Want to talk about it?” Jack didn’t ask this at first, but the more Mark had his nightmares, the more Jack realized that just pretending they didn’t exist wasn’t a solution. They’d been living together for weeks. They were both learning all kinds of dirty secrets about each other. It was actually more embarrassing to _not_ acknowledge the reality of their situation.

Mark didn’t always take Jack up on his offer, but he actually did more often than not. Jack had been surprised at first, but then he came to treasure Mark’s nightly confessions. It helped him get a better idea of how Mark’s mind was working after all the trauma, what it was focusing on, what Jack could help him work on. If Mark didn’t want to talk, Jack never pushed him, but if he did, Jack always listened. He drew a leg up under him and leaned against the footboard, sipping his tea and watching Mark. Judgment-free zone here. Mark could talk about anything, and Jack wouldn’t think less of him.

Mark rubbed at his face, letting his exhaustion show. “...it was Chica. The whole thing. I don’t even think I was in there myself once, besides being a spectator…. God, I wish it’d been me. I wish I could’ve just remembered them hurting _me,_ instead of watching some fake bullshit about them hurting _her._ It was the same nightmare I’d have _so many times_ while I was in that room, after they told me. _Lied_ to me. I knew it was wrong this time. _I knew._ But it still hurt to watch, to hear her whining and whimpering and calling out to me- I know it was me, I _know,_ I’m basically her daddy. I’m her _protector._ But I couldn’t _do_ anything and it was so terrible, the things they did to her Jack, I used to get sick from it. She’s such a good dog… such a good girl… she d-doesn’t deserve _any_ of it….”

Tonight was apparently a night for Mark to talk. Jack sipped and listened, sadness in his face as Mark described his dream of Chica being hurt. “At least now you know it’s fake?” he offered, after Mark’s voice broke and he fell silent. “I mean, I realize that doesn’t make the dreams any less horrible. But unlike dreams about you, where it really happened...it _never_ happened to her. She misses you, and that’s the worst of it. She didn’t even have to go a day without food, much less anything else. And you got to see her today...you could probably call again, if you wanted to. It’s early enough in California.”

Jack had hoped that Mark knowing the truth would have enabled him to have good dreams about Chica, but apparently that wasn’t the case. Sometimes, Jack wished there really _was_ brain bleach, so he could wash the inside of Mark’s head of all the nasty memories burrowing into the crevices of his mind. “Mark…” He stretched out a leg, nudging his foot against Mark’s duvet-covered knee, barely counting as contact. “She’s not hurting, Mark. You _know_ she’s not hurting.”

“ _I_ know she’s not hurting. My _brain_ knows. But that doesn’t stop it from trying to show me otherwise…. Just like when it told me _I_ was a dog. It _knew_ I wasn’t. But that didn’t stop it.” Mark nudged Jack’s leg back from under the duvet and scrubbed at his face. He drank more tea without Jack needing to coax him. “I know I literally just saw her barking and wagging her tail and practically spinning in circles to hear my voice again. I _know that._ But when I’m having a nightmare, and watching her get slowly brutalized to death, and then _mutilated_ just because…. Fuck, Jack, it _feels_ real. Just like all my other nightmares that _did_ happen. When I wake up, I can remind myself it’s fake. That Chica’s okay. But when I’m there, _stuck_ there, it’s almost like sleep paralysis. Like that one recurring nightmare I had with the giant moon- remember? I mentioned it in a panel once. I used to get shit like that all the time but now my brain has _fuel_ for it. I’m so…”

Mark sighed, his head sinking into his palm. “I’m so _tired…._ ”

“It’ll get better,” Jack said, though they both knew his heart wasn’t fully behind the words. It was something both of their therapists kept reassuring them, a refrain they were tired of hearing. “It has to. You’ll keep making fresh memories, and you’ll make good memories again, _great_ memories, and they’ll slowly push the bad ones out of your dreams. It’s just slow right now, because...well, because you’re limited to what sort of new memories you can make, stuck here in a tiny house in the Irish countryside…”

“...still some good memories, though….”

Jack noticed Chica Junior on the bed and leaned over to pick her up, walking her up the duvet to Mark’s lap. “Although...I have a question that might lead to happier memories?” He made the puppy toy sit on Mark’s knee and cock it’s head with a press of his fingers. “It’s almost your birthday. I was talking with Thomas over Skype just before--you didn’t wake me up, I hadn’t gone to bed yet. But, we were thinking...he’d like to come here for your birthday. If it’s okay with you.”

Jack said that so calmly, as if it hadn’t been his idea. As if they weren’t making plans to get Chica flown out to Ireland. He didn’t like being dishonest...but lying about birthday plans didn’t really count. Some falsehoods were acceptable.

Mark reached out to pet Chica Junior, pausing at Jack’s question. He pursed his lips in thought. “...my birthday…. Fuck, it… it’s almost my birthday? Really?”

Mark took Chica Junior from Jack and hugged her against his chest. One hand lifted to floof at his hair, staring down blankly. “Of… of course it’s okay. Holy shit. I’d love to see him, I… I haven’t seen any of them, since way before the convention. I mean. In person. I… a-and I know he probably wants to see me too. I can handle it. I want him to come out, if he can.”

“Couple weeks out still.” Jack let Mark pull the stuffed dog from his hands and sat back. “But yeah, it’s coming up. I’m working a present for you. Shh. It’s a secret.” Jack touched a finger to his lips and grinned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Mark was upset about something still. Jack wasn’t entirely sure what. “All Thomas needs is a good internet connection. We have a _great_ one. Once he heard that, he was sold. And...he’s not gonna tell your moms. Not yet.” At least Mark agreed with Jack that it was for the best that he remained isolated. For now. Jack would have hated it if Mark actively _wanted_ visits from his friends and family, because he wouldn’t have been able to say no, no matter how much he worried it would be negative. Thomas, at least, had always been incredibly respectful and attentive to what Jack said about Mark’s mental state. Jack felt he could be the most trusted to look after Mark.

“A present? Jack, you _kind of_ bought me a whole house. I mean, we share it, but still. I don’t think you really need to get me anything else….”

“Are you going to deny me the funness of getting you a present for your birthday?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow at Mark. “Seriously? After all I’ve done for you, and you won’t give me this one small pleasure?” He was smiling again, hoping Mark recognized it for the teasing that it was. Jack knew Mark was a bit self-conscious about presents, but there was absolutely no way he’d turn down a gift of Chica.

Jack would just have to keep his mouth shut until she got here. That was going to be the hardest part.

“Well shit Jack, if you wanna spoil me _that_ badly.” Mark returned Jack’s teasing, much to his relief. The darkness seemed to be dissipating.

“Tom’s fine with sleeping on the couch too,” Jack said. “I offered him a hotel room, but he’d rather stay close. Again...unless you want him to not be sleeping here.” Jack’s smile faded as he took another sip of his tea. “He knows you have nightmares, but there’s a difference between _knowing_ and _experiencing_ …” Jack wasn’t entirely sure if Mark wanted Thomas to hear him screaming into the night. Whatever Mark wanted would go. Thomas would just have to accept that.

“Well, Tom doesn’t have a death wish, so I’m not surprised. God help all of us if they ever find out.” Mark sipped his own tea. “If Tom wants to be close, I’m not gonna take that away from him. He finally gets to see me again…. And he might not for a while, after he leaves. It’s fine. He _is_ my brother. He’s been holding me after nightmares since we were kids.”

Jack felt a little stab of something like jealousy when Mark mentioned Thomas had been holding him after nightmares for years, but he batted it away in his heart. Of _course_ Thomas would, Thomas was Mark’s brother! There was no need to be _jealous_!

...besides, Thomas wouldn’t be able to hold Mark now. Mark had only _just_ managed to give Jack a hug for the first time today. There was no way he’d be able to work up to hugging Thomas after a _nightmare_.

Jack took a long sip of his tea, hating the flutter of triumph he felt at that thought. _Jesus Christ, I am_ ** _not_** _gonna pick a fight with Mark’s_ ** _brother_** _!_

He was the one who had invited Thomas in the first place. He had no reason to be jealous. If anything, Thomas should be jealous of _Jack_ for getting to monopolize all of Mark’s time and _stop feeling good about that!_

Jack kept drinking until he could push down all those thoughts about Thomas.

“What sort of cake do you like best? I’ll make you one. From scratch, even. Cause I know how to do that.”

“You _would_ know how to bake a cake from scratch. Gotta get your fix, right? I dunno. I’ve never been a _huge_ fan of cake like _some_ people I know….” Mark gave Jack a _very_ pointed look, which Jack promptly ignored. “Hmm…. I guess… funfetti?”

Jack cocked his head to the side, frowning a little at Mark. “Okay, so...I’ve never had funfetti cake before. I mean, I’ve seen pictures and stuff: it’s the cake with all the colorful shit inside, right? How the fuck do you make that?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. It’s a complete mystery, Jack. _Nobody knows._ Some people say it’s made by unicorns running rainbows through a giant cheese grater. But that’s just hearsay. Personally, I think it’s some kind of magic bullshit Betty Crocker and all those other cake mix companies don’t want you to know about.”

Jack scrunched up his face at Mark over his nearly empty mug. “You dickbag, you picked funfetti on purpose, didn’t you? Just you watch. I will personally make sure you have the most epic funfetti cake ever for your birthday!”

Mark hid his smug little smile behind his empty cup. “Hey, you asked. Don’t get mad at me for giving an answer. Sometimes we’ve gotta learn our lessons the hard way.”

If nothing else, maybe Thomas could bring a box of cake mix with him? Jack would ask him, just to be sure. And his mum had a square cake pan. If Jack used that, he could then frost it with chocolate and make it Tiny Box Tim. Yeaaaaah, that could be neato! Or else he could use a round cake pan and give Mark a Sam cake, but Mark called Sam _weird_.

Well, not _Sam_. A room full of Sams. Jack supposed it was a little weird if you weren’t used to infected eyeballs staring at you from every inch of free shelf space.

“Consider this challenge _accepted_.” Jack drained his tea and gave a firm nod. “Funfetti cake it is. Anything else you want for your birthday?”

Mark stared Jack dead in the eye and answered deadpan: “Goat pinata.”

“Mark?” Jack leaned in toward Mark, holding Mark’s gaze. Mark was _totally_ doing this on purpose, the little fucker. “Your wish...is my command.”

Whatever Mark asked for, he’d get. _Literally_. If he wanted a goat pinata, Jack would get him a motherfucking goat pinata. And he’d have to find something ridiculous to fill it with. Like little goat toys. Stickers of goats. _Yes_. Yes, this was perfect. Bulk goat party favors. That had to be a thing.

Jack had a lot of shit to google tomorrow.

This time, when Jack smiled, it _did_ reach his eyes. “Any. Thing. Else?”

“Great. We’re finally getting a goat.” Mark took a breath.

“...help me make a birthday vlog?”

That request knocked the wicked grin off Jack’s face, but then he was smiling again, and it was a softer smile this time. “Yeah, yeah, of course. If the weather’s good, we can set up a camera outside, or in the sitting room if it’s not.” _And Chica will be with you, and you’ll be so_ ** _happy_** _, you’ll definitely be able to face a camera again!_

“Do you have to make like a blood sacrifice in Ireland for a promise of good weather? I mean, does promising to slay the paper mache goat count? Maybe we could offer the gods potatoes or something.”

“We can try to plead with the river god,” Jack said. “The little faeries of the Shannon might intervene on your behalf, since you’ve been so good at feeding her ducks.” It was too soon to tell if there would be good weather for Mark’s birthday, but he hoped so, for Mark’s sake.

“I'll give them half a loaf every day if it means sunshine and rainbows on my birthday.” Mark giggled softly. “Okay, I can maybe pass on the rainbows, I just figured they were your guys’ specialty.”

“If we did it the day before, you could have it up on your birthday,” Jack mused. “But if we did it the day of, you can have your epic goat-and-funfetti-party in it. Rebecca and the Taco Trophy have to be in it, for sure. It’s not a Markiplier vlog anymore without them.” Jack was so glad he asked Tyler to package those up and ship them over.

“I want to get a shot of every last awful thing at this party. All of it. I wanna see Tumblr losing their shit and making memes, Jack. It’ll be the greatest vlog comeback known to man. Like one giant shitpost but in celebratory video format. You could help me edit it too.”

“If we’re gonna do _that_ , we need to really brainstorm how to make this the best awful party ever. We definitely need a birthday party princess crown for you, or something like that. Horrible party hats. We’re not gonna have any guests...costumes. We need costumes, so Thomas and I can pretend to be hoards of people. And the ducks. You know how you can get the ducks to chase you when you’re almost out of bread? We need to do that.” Jack drummed his fingers against his mug, all thoughts of Mark’s nightmare forgotten. “What about callbacks to some of your favorite videos?”

Mark was smiling faintly, genuinely, from the conversation. “I think they'd love it. I think _I'd_ love it. Just complete craziness and silliness. I mean, there's only gonna be three of us there so we might as well have fun with it. Tom might be a little hesitant but I can _always_ manage to drag his ass on board a project. He can't resist this face.” Mark pulled a lighter version of his puppy dog look. “It sounds like a lot of stuff to get our hands on, though. We could skim my older videos and compilations for ideas. I can think of a few major things my fans _still_ latch onto even if I haven't touched them in forever. This is gonna be either really awesome or really, _really_ stupid.”

“I was already planning on making you a Tim cake,” Jack admitted.

Mark squealed softly, his face lighting up. “You're gonna make it a Tim cake?! Ooooh it better be cute. Don't besmirch the rep of my favorite little biscuit, Jack."

“And what if we got cutouts of monsters, like the FNAF crew, and pretended they were guests too?” Jack chuckled, shaking his head. “I suspect Tom will cave to _anything_ you ask of him.”

This was going to be an awesome party, even if it was sparsely attended. If it could get Mark laughing and in front of a video camera again, then Jack would pull out all the stops for it. _Weather, please be good…_

“You mean like a Balloon Boy with an actual shit ton of balloons? And we'd need Sexy Chica. For the cupcakes. No Puppet though.”

“However,” Jack began, feeling a yawn fighting its way out and yup, there it was, “it is also two in the morning, and we both had long, emotional days. We should try sleep again.” He smiled a little crookedly at Mark. “Want a lullaby? I've been trying to learn more Korean ones…”

Mark pouted. “Aw man, how the heck do you expect me to fall asleep after getting me all excited?? You should've saved the ideas for morning. Now I'm jittery and hyped up.” He set his empty mug on the bedside table and scooted back against his pillows, cuddling Chica Junior. “But I guess you're right…. It is really late. And how can I possibly turn down some sweet Korean when you've been doing a bunch of research? You know if my mom wasn't so convinced you're smuggling me away from her on purpose you could always ask her for some. She's got the real deal.”

“That's why I'm offering lullabies, ya goof, to calm us both down. Maybe I'll ask Thomas when he's here. Seems like he actually remembers more of his mother tongue…”

“You're right, he does. He always sort of held onto the Korean stuff more than I did.”

All teasing aside, Jack set his own mug down, making himself comfortable at the foot of Mark's bed. “I suppose it's good that you don't actually know the language, so you won't know when I screw up. But okay. So, this one was _my_ favorite…”

“Let's see if I recognize this one….”

Lullabies were simple songs, light and soothing, and Jack loved how the _tone_ was the same, no matter the language. People were people, no matter where they were from, and babies fell asleep the same way all around the world.

Jack sang through a couple of the lullabies he had learned, settling down on Mark's bed himself, watching Mark fall asleep to the soft songs. With his hair fully black now and the stuffed toy cuddled against his chest, he looked so young and innocent. Jack smiled faintly around another yawn, his own eyes drifting closed. He didn't need...his eyes...open...to sing…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	21. Morning 148: An Awkward Position

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack realizes where he slept.

The siren smell of coffee never failed to rouse Jack from his sleep. He yawned and stretched and winced when his back twinged angrily at him. Fucking hell, did he sleep on a _rock_ last night, or…

…

Jack sat up slowly, looking around. Mark’s room. He was in Mark’s room... _still_ in Mark’s room. He had been singing to Mark with his eyes closed and goddamnit that was never a good idea. Jack scrubbed at his pink cheeks, grateful at least that Mark didn’t seem to be _in_ the room.

Chica Junior was, though. She had been tucked up against his chest. Jack blinked down at the little puppy. Had he stolen her from Mark in his sleep? He knew he was a very clingy sleeper. Signe always prodded him awake when she was ready to get up and he was wrapped around her like a limpet. Without Signe beside him, Jack had found himself making do with a pillow clutched against his chest every morning. If he’d stolen Chica Junior in his sleep…

No, but that didn’t make sense. If he had stolen Chica Junior, whom Mark had been cuddling, then he would have just latched on to _Mark_ , and that would have been a whole new sort of nightmare. Mark probably would have elbowed him in the teeth or something. Jack was still near(ish) the foot of the bed...maybe Mark just gave him Chica Junior? Because Mark wasn’t in the room, which meant Mark had woken up, which meant Mark had seen Jack sleeping on his feet…

Jack groaned rubbing his hands over his face. Oh god, Mark had _seen_ …

But Jack had seen so much worse from Mark, so much more cause for embarrassment and humiliation. Drooling into the duvet as he snored around Mark’s feet was hardly embarrassing compared to...what happened in that room. Jack could swallow his pride and face his friend again. If Mark could still look Jack in the eye, Jack could not be any weaker.

The strong scent of coffee was still wafting into the room, though, so Jack pushed himself out of Mark’s bed and padded down the hall to the bathroom, taking Chica Junior with him. After relieving his bladder and washing off his face and utterly failing to tame his bed head any, Jack sloped into the kitchen to watch Mark cooking. Now that he was even closer, he could smell…

“...chocolate? You’re making chocolate breakfast?”

God, what _had_ Jack done to deserve this, Markiplier in his kitchen in his pyjamas, tousled hair and soft eyes and fresh coffee and an amazing smelling breakfast of waffles and chocolate?

Mark responded by pulling out his phone and snapping a picture of Jack’s tousled bedhead and look of wonder. He grinned smugly at his housemate. “Only the best for Youtube’s resident sugar fiend. Thought you could use a pick me up after last night.”

Jack stuck out his tongue and flipped Mark off, but he’d made it abundantly clear over the past few weeks that he really didn’t mind. Mark could take as many pictures of Jack as he felt like. Every picture was a step in Mark’s recovery. Two weeks ago, Mark could barely even take a picture of Jack with Jack requesting it. Now he grabbed for his camera when he saw Jack’s bedhead? It almost made Jack want to cheer.

“You spoil me, Mark,” _imoo_. It almost came out. Almost. Jack bit the nickname back and smiled sheepishly at Mark. “Morning. Hope I didn’t put your feet to sleep or anything.”

Mark shrugged. “You reap what you sow, what can I say? Morning to you too, Jackaboy. Feet are fine. Dunno about the blanket, though. Thought I saw a miniature lake forming where your head was.”

Before he tasted Mark’s chocolate concoctions, Jack first had to get himself some coffee. He poured a mug, frowned at the logo of his university plastered on the side, and then shrugged.

Jack let Chica Junior pretend to try some of his coffee before he carried her over to Mark and deposited her on her rightful daddy’s shoulder, little plastic nose shoved in Mark’s ear. “Ugh, usually I get a bit of sleep before coming in. My own damn fault. Back’s stiff this morning. Chocolate will make it all better...shut up, I don’t drool!” _That much._ “Unlike _some_ Americans I could name…”

Mark bumped his cheek against the plushie on his shoulder. “Hey, it just means I'm more than adequately hydrated, God dang it! At least your feet weren't at risk of soaking in it half the night.” Mark pushed a plate into Jack’s hands and went to get his own mug of coffee. “Just go stuff your face with sugar already. And then get a shower, cause sleeping in regular clothes is ick.”

“Thank you for the morning sugar, Mark!” Jack sang as he headed out to the table and ignored the shower comment. He'd get changed after breakfast. “You are the bestest roommate _in the world_!”

“Oh-ho, someone hasn't talked enough with Matt and Ryan. Good to see my roommate rep is on the up and up.”

The waffles smelled delicious, and Jack realized he had never even considered putting marshmallows and chocolate chips on waffles. He tucked in eagerly, making pleased noises at the taste explosion. “Gotta say, you Americans sure do get inventive with food. Forget French cuisine. If I could only eat one type of food for the rest of my life, it would be American.” American covered _everything_.

Mark joined Jack (at the table!) and sipped at his coffee, taking his time with breakfast. “Hey, we got a surplus. People get bored and wanna break the mold. That's what America is all about. You want your bacon deep fried? Marshmallows on waffles? French fries _on_ your burger? No problem.”

“How is the garden coming, anyway?” Jack asked, glancing out the window. It looked a little neater now, but that was the extent of Jack's gardening knowledge. “Found any leprechauns? Any duck nests?”

Mark swallowed his mouthful before answering Jack. “Pretty good. I've just about cleared out all that brush and overgrowth that was making it impossible to even see the fences. Still have to do the shed but it's just some weeds behind it. I'll get to it eventually. Thought I'd try trimming some of the plants we’re keeping. Primarily the trees, like the willow, but… might need to pick up a tool for the really high ones.” He smiled into his coffee. “No nests. Did find a leprechaun though.”

“You found what...oh.” Jack pulled a face at Mark as the other man wiggled his eyebrows. He supposed he was asking for that answer. “Ach, shaddup. Just cause yer after me lucky charms don't mean ye’ve _caught_ me or not’ing.” Jack chuckled at his own exaggerated accent.

Mark snorted into his coffee, giggling and nearly choking. “You a-assholes don't even _have_ Lucky Charms here. That should be a global offense. Did you boycott it ‘cause Lucky is so much cuter than all of you and you're jealous?”

Jack had to giggle along with Mark. He had always loved making his friends laugh, ever since he was little. Making Mark laugh had become even more treasured, and Jack cherished every little giggle or breathless chortle.

“I _know_ , right? It's so unfair! If any country had a national cereal, it should be Ireland with Lucky Charms. And I mean, come on, it's just normal cereal with marshmallows. Why can't we have that?”

Thomas was already bringing Lucky Charms with him. If they couldn't get Chica, then that would be Jack's utterly underwhelming birthday present to Mark.

“Well it's either because you're all a bunch of bitter-loving sticks in the mud, or- and this is just a hunch- because you bought all the marshmallows.”

“I blame you for the marshmallows!” Jack protested, picking up his fork and pointing it at Mark before returning to his breakfast. “I mean, just look at this! Marshmallows on breakfast! I've bought more marshmallows since you moved in because you keep coming up with new uses for them. If anyone is to blame for Ireland's marshmallow shortage, it'd be you and other visiting Americans.”

“Okaaaaay, that may be true, buuuuut… you're still stuffing your face with them. And every other thing I make with marshmallows. How much hot cocoa have we gone through, exactly?”

Jack set his fork aside to wash down the copious amounts of sugar he'd just eaten. “The garden seems to be doing you a lot of good too. You definitely have more color back than you did when you were in hospital...and since you've now experienced the Irish weather first hand, you know how much that's saying.”

Mark swabbed a napkin across the table to sop up his coffee splatters, but he paused to examine the color of his skin. “Yeah. It's kind of nice not ending up balls deep in my own sweat after thirty minutes of being outside. Even though I could just go jump in the river if I got too hot, I suppose. I think I could take on a killer swan. I've got the ducks on my side.”

Jack shook his head at Mark's assertion. “See, that tells me you still haven't actually seen swans in action. We might need to go to a park or something someday, so I can show you why swans are fucking _terrifying_. You think I'm joking, but just one of those birds can _fuck you up_ and look gorgeous the entire time.” Going to a park wouldn't happen anytime soon...But maybe. Maybe with Chica.

“Yeah well, _I'm_ gorgeous too. Birds of a feather would apply, right? I'm just a bit big for my age. Missing a few feathers. I could pass for a swan. I'm graceful enough.” Mark looked thoughtful, but spoke in a deadpan: “It's illegal to beat up swans, isn't it.”

Jack shoveled another forkful of waffle into his mouth and was immediately grateful as Mark called himself gorgeous. It prevented him from automatically agreeing. Even with the scars lining his face, Mark was breathtaking. Especially now, with that smile in his eyes and more of the shadow gone.

Swallowing, Jack croaked out “Honk honk, motherfuckers” and started giggling again, picturing gorgeous Mark dressed up like a swan and chasing real swans around. “It's not illegal for swans to beat up _you_ , so if you really want to try…” He sighed. “I suppose I'll be on hand to call an ambulance.”

Aaand Mark was choking on laughter and breakfast again. “J-Jack, fuck, are you just trying to make me ruin this table??” Mark coughed a bit, but he was still laughing. When he could breathe again, he pouted across the table at Jack. “Always good to know you've got faith in the _best roommate ever,_ Jacky. I bet the ducks would support me. Bring down the swan oppressors! No more use of the phrase ‘ugly duckling’! I'll be the vanguard for waterfowl rights everywhere. Someone call Felix. He's been dethroned.”

“Eh, I’d rather have you laughing than an intact table,” Jack said with a shrug, still grinning ear-to-ear. “And while I may gladly _eat_ your concoctions, they come from your twisted little brain first. Without you, they wouldn’t exist, and I would neither eat them nor mourn them.”

“Aw, what an odd but sweet statement. I'll remember that. You _love_ my ‘twisted little brain’. So shut it, Mr. Potato Head.” Mark got up and headed to the kitchen, shouting to Jack. “You’re just trying to profit off my failure and misery, I see how it is! You've been subsisting off me for yeeeeaaars.”

“You and Felix both take credit for my success, but we all know I’ve been riding the coattails of Ken this whole time!” Jack called back, playing along with Mark’s obvious tease. “I just let you think that!”

The reality was that Jack’s channel had grown larger than Mark’s in the past five months. With Mark’s so silent, his growth plateaued and started declining. Jack, meanwhile, kept the same explosive pace he’d had for the past two years, passing new million marks every few months. He hadn’t started slowing until he’d taken his hiatus and then his slow-atus, but already his channel’s growth was recovering. It was _insane_. There were _fifteen million people_ subscribed to his channel. Fifteen _million_! And the number got bigger _every fucking time_ he checked it! Felix kept joking that Jack would surpass him some day. Jack doubted it...but every now and then, it actually felt possible.

Mark’s response was a bit more muted and delayed. “Jack, you’re my top resource on all the grand threats of Ireland but I think I’m gonna need to take this one with a grain of salt. Those prettied up turkeys won’t stand a chance.”

Mark continued to not believe him about the swans. Jack shook his head. “Markiplier, if you attack swans, I will be right beside you. Fifty feet away. With a camera and a box of bandaids and 999 on hand. That is how I will support you, and you will _thank_ me for it, when the dust clears and you’re licking your wounds. I’ll even be cheering in the background like a soccer mom: You got this, baby!”

“Oh really? Using those _exact_ words?”

Jack took advantage of Mark being away from the table to polish off his waffle before settling back in the chair with his coffee. He sipped at it slowly, savoring the traces of chocolate in his mouth, and closed his eyes. “What’s wrong with my wording...oh, the baby bit?” Jack hoped his face wasn’t too pink. Dammit, he hadn’t meant… “Well, if I’m being your mum, wouldn’t that make you my baby, Baby Marky?”

Mark laughed from the other room. “Okay, okay, if I'm your baby then who the _Hell_ did you get pregnant?? Please don't say my mom. That's a Matt and Ryan joke.”

“Well, when a badger loves a duck, very very much…” Jack opened his eyes to frown at his empty mug and pushed away from the table to follow Mark into the kitchen for a refill of his own. “I dunno, do you think Swedish and Irish can make Korean-German?”

Mark was still in front of the coffee pot, so Jack set his mug on the counter and nudged it Mark’s way with hopeful puppy dog eyes. _Fill me up too?_

“Oh Hell no. I'm _not_ calling Felix daddy. _I'm_ supposed to be daddy!” Mark looked up as Jack entered the kitchen. “No. Never. Not in a million years. You are so off the spectrum of genetics I think you've made a new scientific field: bullshitics.” Mark sighed and refilled Jack’s mug like it was the hardest request _ever._

“Neither of us have anything like your eyes either. Hmm. Okay, when a potato and cinnamon toast love each other very very much…”

Mark set the empty coffee pot in the sink. “Okay, now Ken I could _maybe_ accept as my father. _Maybe._ I mean, it _would_ make Cry my… my sister?? Maybe? Does anyone even _remember_ that video?”

Jack rolled his eyes and tasted his coffee. Perfect. “This conversation has just taken a weird turn. But talking of weird stuff...we have a birthday party to plan! Okay, so I remember...funfetti cake, a goat pinata, and the most epic vlog ever, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	22. Night 148: The First (Intentional) Bed-Share

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Mark's permission, they cuddle asleep. Sort of.

Jack hadn't been asleep. Jack hadn't been asleep because he'd been lying awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He'd actually gone to sleep fairly early (for him), but like Mark, he was plagued by near-nightly nightmares. Unlike Mark, his nightmares didn't involve screaming. There was just a lot of crying, crying and pleading, because Jack was in that room with Mark, in that room and powerless to do anything but _watch_ , watch those scenes captured digitally play out in front of him, with the added bonus if Mark's screams and pleas ringing in his ears.

Jack knew what Mark sounded like screaming in pain or terror. He'd heard him every night. Heard him in the hospital.

Jack wanted to check on Mark, but he didn't dare. Mark was in his room. Mark was safe. Mark was going to start screaming eventually, and _then_ Jack could check on him, reassure himself that Mark was physically fine and not still in the room…

Even waiting for Mark's screams, Jack still jumped when the other man started up. It was too much like his nightmare. He pulled himself out of bed, finding a t-shirt and some sweatpants he could throw on over his boxers before he stomped off to the kitchen.

Jack's hands shook as he prepared the tea, and he had to stop to press his face in his hands and breathe heavily. _Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry…_ Mark would notice if Jack had been crying, and he'd feel even worse. Mark was _fine_. Jack was going to see him in just a minute.

Water ready, Jack poured the tea and let it steep for just a minute. He fished the tea bags out and carried the mugs to Mark's room, knocking on his door. “Mark? You awake?”

“You ask that every time, but you already know the answer. Get in here already.”

Jack had managed not to cry in the kitchen, but he couldn't do anything about the exhaustion in his face. Last night was the longest bout of uninterrupted sleep he'd had in awhile: usually his nightmares came _after_ returning to his own bed. Unfortunately, it had been in an awkward position and therefore not a very _restful_ sleep. He still plastered a smile on as he came into Mark's room and offered him one of the mugs (plain black today, they'd done the dishes). “I could try to think of new questions if you'd like, but it's easier to not think at half one.”

Mark was there. Mark was there and alive and free of the room. He'd been crying--very bad dream tonight--but he was uninjured. Jack tried to soothe his subconscious as he went for his usual seat by the foot of Mark's bed. Mark was _fine._ There was no need for nightmares.

“True. Sorry. You can just knock and leave it at that if it's easier. By now I know it's gonna be you.” Mark accepted the mug quietly.

“On the really bad nights, hearing your name seems to help.” They were few and far between, mercifully, but in the nights when Mark was completely lost to his nightmares, his own name was a good first step towards bringing him back.

Mark sipped at his tea, then leaned back against the pillows as if he were relaxed. “You know, it's not… it wasn't too bad, tonight. You don't have to stay up with me. The tea should be enough….”

Jack gave a disbelieving snort into his own mug at Mark's words, folding his legs under him and giving Mark the same visual study Mark had just given him. Alive and safe, but Mark was exhausted as well, the crazed bedhead testament to thrashing, the tear-stained face showing the heightened state of his emotions, the tense line of his shoulders showing he was still on edge. “Mark, we've been doing this every night for weeks now,” he pointed out, taking a sip of his tea and hoping the cuppa would be enough to relax his own high strung mind. “It was a bad one tonight. Wanna talk about it?”

Mark slumped as he took his next sip. “I know we have. That's why I'm saying if you need to just… take a night, it's…. You're not even gonna consider it. I'll just stop now.” Mark sighed into his mug. “Not super bad…. Not Chica dying levels of bad…. Just, less memory and more possibility, I guess….

“...they'd taken me. Again. From our house; dragged me back to that god awful room…. They found us somehow, they always do, just like when they want to dump a body and they got in because _of course_ they got in, they always do that too and there was nothing I could do, I couldn't stop them…” 

Jack didn't dream about it happening _again_ , he just dreamed about what had already happened, with himself coming along for the ride like some sort of horrible self-insert fanfic. He still understood the feeling, empathized with it, with the helpless hostile that had to drive Mark awake every night. He sipped his tea and listened.

There was nothing Jack could say that would make the nightmares go away, but Jack could still try to soothe Mark's frazzled nerves after the fact. “We're safe here, Mark. The alarm company knows about what happened. The police know. If those bastards break their pattern and come after us again, they've got about five minutes max before the police will be here. We'd just have to hold them off for five minutes.” That was the response time promised by both the police and the alarm company. Jack hoped he never had to find out if they knew what they were talking about.

“Five minutes can stretch on forever in some cases….” Mark sighed.

Jack stretched out a leg to nudge his foot against Mark's knee. It wasn't the hug he'd wanted after his own nightmare, but it was an allowed form of contact that didn't set Mark off. “It won't happen, Mark. It _won't_. And it didn't. We're both still here, both still safe.”

“I know we are. I know we're as safe as we can get while still living semi-normally, Jack. I just wish…. I wish I wouldn't have to keep reliving this. All of it. I wish I didn't have to be so scared and fucking anxious all the time that one of these days they're just going to break through the fence in the garden and torture me all over again. I couldn't go back there, Jack. I _couldn't._ I barely held myself together the first time if I was trapped there again, with them, I'd….” Mark trailed off and drained his tea in lieu of words.

Jack sighed, staring into his own tea. “I wish I could give you a hug,” he said. He'd hugged Mark once outside of a panic attack, yesterday, but he knew better than to assume he could do so again. Mark had initiated that hug anyway, because Jack had finally broken down himself and started crying unstoppably when Mark was aware enough to realize. 

Still, in an ideal world, Jack wouldn't be trying to console Mark with facts. He'd have Mark in his arms, cutting him off from the dark night and whispering reassurances into his hair that it was okay, they were okay, Jack had him and wasn't ever going to let him get taken like that again. Facts were a poor, cold substitute for physical affection.

“I wish you could too.”

“I could hold your hand?” Jack suggested, looking up at Mark again. Hand-holding was easier for Mark. Sometimes, they could lean against each other, like they'd done in the garden, but that required Jack to be closer than he dared after one of Mark's nightmares.

Mark was hesitant as he eyed Jack’s hand.. “...okay. You'll have to scoot up a little though. It's okay. I'm not gonna freak out. Promise.” He set the empty mug on the bedside table and leaned back again. One arm wrapped around Chica Junior, while the other hand rested palm-up on the duvet, the same way Jack would offer his hand to Mark for holding.

Jack looked at Mark’s hand, then studied his face, checking to see how much Mark was forcing this. He seemed okay. He seemed calm enough. And maybe...maybe if they got the positions right, Jack could coax Mark into leaning against his side again. It wouldn’t be a hug, but it would be better than just a hand hold.

Leaning over the side of the bed, Jack set his mug on the floor before he shifted onto all fours. He moved very slowly, trying his best to telegraph every move before he made it. He crawled up Mark’s bed and turned so he was sitting back against the pillows as well, enough space between their bodies so they weren’t touching.

Taking Mark’s hand was harder. Jack had never actually _taken_ Mark’s hand. He’d always offered, and Mark always accepted. Having the positions reversed was new and unsettling. Jack knew just grabbing Mark’s fingers wouldn’t go over well, but what _would_? The same thing Mark always did? Jack reached out slowly, let his fingers slide over Mark’s palm, a ghost-light touch before pressing their palms together. He aligned their fingers, giving Mark time to get used to the contact before he offset them just enough to link their fingers together, clasping Mark’s hand gently. “This okay?” he asked softly. He hoped it was. It felt _good_ , being able to hold Mark’s hand after his own nightmare, to sit next to him and reassure himself that this was all real and not just another dream.

Mark breathed out slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, this… this is good. You're good, Jack. Promise.” Mark squeezed Jack’s hand.

Jack watched their hands until Mark squeezed his fingers, returning the pressure and turning his head to look at Mark. His heart was pounding against his ribs, but it was okay, it was okay, he was just holding Mark’s hand, sitting in Mark’s bed, and Mark looked fine. Calm. Mostly calm. He still had Chica Junior clutched to his side, but he was also snuggling further into the bed and Jack smiled, running his thumb along Mark’s knuckle.

“I’ll hold your hand until you fall asleep,” he murmured, giving Mark’s hand another squeeze. “And I’ll try not to fall asleep in your bed this time. Mine’s just down the hall. I can make it.” He wouldn’t close his eyes, no matter how heavy they were or how much better it felt just sitting here, by Mark’s side, instead of at his feet.

Mark passed Jack his glasses with a hum of acknowledgement, tucking his arm back around Chica Junior and resting his head on the pillow. Jack took Mark’s glasses and set them beside the empty mug on the table. 

“Want me to talk? Or sing? Or just...just stay quiet?” Quiet wasn’t usually the right answer after one of Mark’s nightmares, as Mark seemed to respond best to latching on to Jack’s voice, but he felt like maybe he could make the offer today. They were holding hands, and that was something new. It was a new point of focus for Mark’s frazzled brain. It could help.

Mark squeezed Jack’s hand. “Can you just… stay? Here. With me. I mean… last night wasn't bad. I didn't freak out and wake up again or have a panic attack when I saw you in the morning. It's…” He sighed and squinted up at Jack. “...you're exhausted, Jack. And it's not going to get any better if we keep this up. One or two nights of not forcing yourself awake to leave after I fall asleep isn't going to hurt us. You don't have to do it. But if you want to stay… I'm okay.”

Mark was already looking comfortable and calmer, relaxing more and more with every minute they held hands. It was adorable, really. Mark looked soft and sleepy and Jack _really_ wanted to hug him now, or push his hair out of his face and kiss his forehead.

He didn’t. Jack met Mark’s unfocused gaze instead, biting his lip as Mark called him out on his own fatigue. “I’m not so tired that I can’t…” But Mark had asked him to stay. Mark asked him to stay before telling Jack he didn’t have to go, and Jack was a complete pushover when it came to Mark asking him for _anything_. If Mark wanted him to stay, Jack would stay.

“Okay,” he murmured, running his thumb along Mark’s knuckle again. “Okay, I can…I can stay.” Because Jack didn’t really want to leave this bed either. He didn’t want to let go of Mark’s hand. And if he could sleep beside Mark, holding his hand, then maybe his own nightmares would keep their distance, reassured that Mark wasn’t in that room, couldn’t be in that room, because Mark was _here_.

Jack settled down against the pillows, making himself more comfortable than he had been at the foot of Mark’s bed this morning. He breathed slowly, savoring the feel of Mark’s fingers intertwined with his, and then began to speak, telling Mark about his day. “I’ve been playing a lot of VR games lately. They’re pretty neat. I love the ones that really get you moving as part of it, even if they do always remind me of how out of shape I am…”

“Mmm… that's cool… look good to me….” Mark’s eyes were already closed, his voice sliding into the deep shadows of sleep.

Jack watched Mark drift away, falling silent as his hold on Chica Junior grew looser. _Adorable._ He sat and watched for as long as he dared, but his own eyelids were weighted heavily, and Jack had to yawn. He wiggled down, lying fully beside Mark, just watching Mark sleep and sleep…

Jack drifted away like that, inches away from Mark, barely sparing a thought for how much he loved to cling. It would be inevitable, though. During the night, at some point, without their hands coming apart, Jack’s free arm ended up thrown around Mark’s waist, his face pressed against Mark’s shoulder as he fell through happy dreams, good dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	23. Morning 149: The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They wake up.
> 
> It goes about as well as you'd expect.

Jack grumbled when the warm pulled away, rolling into the spot Mark had vacated, groping beneath the duvet for where the other man had gone. He started to stir when Mark ran into the wall, but it wasn’t until Mark had stumbled through the door that Jack opened his eyes.

He opened his eyes and promptly closed them again, blinking a few times. Whaaa? This wasn’t his bed. His duvet had spots on it, and his bed was metal, not wood. This was...this bed smelled like Mark. This was _Mark’s bed_. What the fuck was he doing in Mark’s bed?

Jack pushed himself up, looking around. He was lying on top of the blanket, and the bed was warm where another body had just been. The door was hanging open. Mark had been here. Mark had left. Jack had fallen asleep on Mark again? Memories prodded at his brain...oh yeah. Yeah. Mark had _asked_ him to, and Jack had been too tired to put up much of an argument.

Jack flopped back against the pillows and sighed. Mark had probably gone to get breakfast started, like he always did. He’d go join him. In a minute. Jack yawned and stretched and heard a clatter of a chair falling over causing him to practically jack-knife out of the bed. “Jesus! Mark…?” Jack stumbled to his feet, realizing belatedly that Mark’s glasses were still on the bedside table. Because that was the side Jack had been sleeping on. Was Mark trying to get by without them? Fuck that! Mark was blind as a bat without his glasses. Jack snatched them up and ran out into the hall, trying to find his wayward roommate.

Mark was on the floor in the dining room, next to the fallen chair. Jack stopped in the doorway, not sure if he was allowed to laugh or if Mark was actually hurt. “...Mark? You okay?”

“...think I bruised my face. Among other things.” Mark’s voice was slightly slurred, lying still on the floor with his eyes closed.

“That’s what happens when you forget you have glasses,” Jack said, relaxing a bit. Mark hadn’t run out in a blind panic. That was good. Mark didn’t sound completely cognizant. That was less good. Mark was lying flat on his face, which was also not good (even if it was giving Jack an absolutely envious view of the infamous Markiplier ass, which had definitely returned after his months of captivity). “Sorry. Forgot I was kinda in the way there.”

“Starting to consider contacts.” Mark shrugged vaguely. “‘S fine. Thanks.”

Jack set the chair back upright and crouched beside Mark, holding out the glasses as an olive branch. “You gonna need ice for that bruise? Let me see how bad it is.”

Mark took the glasses and winced as he pushed himself up onto an elbow. “Probably. I think it’s swelling up. Does… it look bad??”

Jack grimaced at the puffiness already starting on Mark’s face, his forehead and nose, and along the right side of his cheek. “Your mothers are gonna have my guts for garters next time you give them a call. And Thomas is probably gonna beat me up when he comes here. Come on, let’s get to the kitchen to ice you up."

“Damn it. Well… lucky for you, neither of them wear garters. I can’t save you from Tom, though. Just hold him back long enough for you to run.” Mark sighed heavily and slipped on his glasses before taking the offered hands. Jack helped Mark to his feet, careful not to hold his hands any longer than necessary. Once on his feet again, Mark tapped gingerly around his face with a grimace. “Shit…”

Jack backed off immediately, gave Mark his space as he headed to the kitchen to fill a bag with ice for Mark’s face. Mark was still talking, and Jack was looking back to listen, but…

That looked like more than just one fall, but Jack thought he remembered a thud waking him up. Maybe Mark had run into several things. He sighed to himself . “You okay? I mean, aside from the face? You woke up okay? With...me?” _In your bed? Because I know I can be a clingy sleeper, and...shitballs, was that why you didn’t get your glasses first? And you left Chica Junior behind too…_

Jack swallowed those words and just waited to see what Mark would say.

Mark didn’t make eye contact as he spoke, his hands waving through the air. “I… panicked. A little. _Just_ a little! I got anxious because you were kind of on top of me. And I felt boxed in. But that was it! I had a handle on it, I did!! I remembered my breathing and didn’t have a full blown attack or anything. It would’ve been perfect, if I just had my glasses, then I wouldn’t have tripped on that stupid chair… or walked into the wall. Yeah. That… was a thing. But I’m okay! _I am._ Really. It was just new and I didn’t know how to take it the first time.”

 _Fuck._ Yes, Jack had been right. He swore under his breath, raking his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Mark, I’m a fucking clingy-ass sleeper. I should’ve thought about that last night, shouldn’t have stayed. Of _course_ you’d freak out. But...you really calmed yourself down?” He managed a smile, weak but still proud, for his friend. “That’s great! That’s...really great, actually. I can only imagine how much I latched on to you, so if you only had a little freakout...but it won’t have to happen again. I’ll make sure I make it back to my room next time, and then you never have to run out without your glasses.”

Ice bag ready, Jack wrapped a towel around it and offered it to Mark. “I’m really sorry about that, Mark. I should’ve known better…”

“Jack, it’s fine. _Really._ You weren’t even clinging that badly…. It was just me, like always. I don’t regret asking you to just stick around. Jack, seriously, don’t put yourself down too much. Worse has happened. I’m still fine with you sharing my bed some nights. It’s not healthy for you to constantly drag yourself back to your own. You slept good last night, right? You look better. You look _rested._ ” Mark took the ice and smushed it against his face, hissing at the contact before giving a sigh. “Jack, please, I forgave you even before you got out of that bed. I _asked_ you to stay with me last night. You don’t have to apologize, and you don’t have to force yourself back to your own bedroom. If you can drag yourself out of bed every night to help me, then I can share a little mattress. _I’m okay._ ”

“How well I slept doesn’t matter,” Jack insisted, even though he _had_ slept very well last night. Better than he had in a long time. There had been no lingering horror in his mind, no nightmares to sap the energy from his rest. “My bed is _fine_ , Mark, and it’s really not that much of a hardship to go back to it. I just make a fuss because I don’t wanna put the empty mugs in the kitchen.”

Even if he hated going back to his bed because it was too big and empty. Sleeping with Mark was _not_ the solution. Jack’s bed was too empty because he didn’t have a girlfriend. He hated to admit it, but he really didn’t like being completely on his own. He always felt so lonely, especially at night when the lights were out and the house settling around him. Jack was not about to use Mark as a surrogate partner, not after everything Mark had gone through.

“ _Yes_ it does. Because _you_ and how _you_ _feel_ matter, Jack.” This was a common argument between them recently. Jack knew he was constantly putting himself after Mark and it made the other man uneasy, but he couldn’t help it. Mark needed the support more than Jack.

“How did _you_ sleep?” Jack asked, turning the question back on Mark. If Jack’s clinginess (and don’t tell him it wasn’t that bad, Mark, Signe always teased him about it) drove Mark into a mild panic attack, then surely Mark hadn’t slept well himself, and Jack’s presence in his bed was more of a hindrance than a help.

Mark’s face was flushed from the ice, but he looked off to the side sheepishly. “Well, uh… I slept… I slept good. Well. Good? No, it’s well, I think- _whatever._ Point: I slept really fucking good, actually. Both nights. It was nice. I haven’t really felt this alert in…” He paused as he thought. “...a while.”

“...oh.” Jack had to close his mouth on his prepared declaration of _see, my presence doesn’t actually help you_ and rethink his strategy. “Oh. Uh…”

Yeah. Yes, _genius_ , Jackaboy, A+ commentary there. Jack glanced away as well, unable to hide his slightly pink face behind a bag of ice. Well...dammit.

Jack coughed a little, cleared his throat, turned away to get coffee started, because it was too early for this. _Way_ too early for this without coffee. “I...uh…”

 _Words!_ Where were his words!? Jack pushed his hand through his hair and sighed. “I don’t want to make you panicked every morning. That can’t be a good way to wake up. And I _do_ cling. I cling like a fucking _limpet_ , Mark, and since I do it in my sleep...it’s gonna happen any time I don’t go back to my own room.”

But Mark had slept well, and Jack had slept well, and it had felt so _good_ to fall asleep with someone else breathing in counterpoint and Jack had missed that, missed that connection with another person, and the fact that it was _Mark_ had made it better (and god, no, he couldn’t _actually_ be considering caving so easily…)!

But he was. He _was_ , because Mark was sort of backwardsly asking for it, and Jack _wanted_ it, as horrible as it was to use Mark for his own comfort. Jack bit the inside of his lip and kept his eyes on the coffee as he measured out water and beans and didn’t let Mark see how red his face was.

“I only panicked because it was the first time I ever woke up to arms around me… after what happened, I mean. I didn’t know how to handle it. My brain just assumed it was bad, because I didn’t know it was good… if that makes any sense. I don’t know. Sometimes _I_ don’t even understand how I work after everything that happened. But we both know I can adjust. I can get used to stuff again- like waking up with a few limbs on me. I _stopped_ my attack from happening, Jack. That’s _great,_ you said so yourself. That has to _mean something._ I’m sure there’s precautions we can take, or… or preventative stuff, I dunno, but clearly this is good for us. You can’t deny that.”

Well, if Mark put it that way, it _would_ be good for him to get used to sleeping with someone else again, if he ever wanted another girlfriend-- _no, Jack, don’t justify it!_ If Mark got a girlfriend, she’d have to learn how to deal with his new quirks, just as she’d learn how to deal with his old quirks, and sleeping together would be something they had to figure out themselves. Jack couldn’t be a surrogate bedmate for Mark anymore than Mark should be one for Jack.

“Precautions like building a wall between us?” Jack asked, turning the coffee maker on more vehemently than he meant. Meant to show, at least. “Mark, I’m gonna be grabby. I can’t help it. I’m _asleep_ when I do it, and even if there was a fucking wall of, I dunno, pillows or whatever...well, what’s the fucking point then?”

“Maybe. We could try it.” Mark frowned at Jack behind his ice. “The point would be we’re still sharing the bed.” As if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Jack slumped back against the counter, floofing his hair again and then peering up through the green mess at Mark. “It’s just...I hate...I hate being alone. You know that.”

Mark had been the first person Jack had told when he broke up with his Korean girlfriend. He’d also been the first person Jack had told about starting to date Signe...and he’d expressed his concerns over how quickly Jack had rebounded (and about dating a fan). Mark knew Jack didn’t handle the single life very well, though he had been trying ever since Signe broke up with him. He hadn’t been able to give her the time she deserved, and he wouldn’t be able to give anyone else the time _they_ deserved.

“That includes sleeping alone. Probably _why_ I’m so clingy. And I don’t…” Jack’s eyes slid back to the floor, his face still red over this admission. “I don’t want to _use_ you like that, Mark. You don’t deserve that.”

“I know that,” Mark murmured. “If we’re talking about using, then can I just call myself out too while we’re at it? You wouldn’t be the only one benefitting here, Jack. I’m being honest. I’m… kind of acting a little selfish right now, too. I want you to feel better. Sleep better. But it looks like it would help me too, and… and I think it’s because I feel so safe with you. When you come in after my nightmares, I don’t feel so scared anymore. My paranoia goes down…. I’m not looking over my shoulder constantly or waiting for someone to crawl out from under the bed. I feel _safe._ And maybe that’s why I sleep better. Maybe I can get more rest because with you next to me it’s not as easy for my brain to count off all the ways I’m vulnerable again. Like I was in the hotel room. Alone. In my bed. With you there, it’s not the same. Maybe you’d be using me because you’re lonely. But I’d be using you too. And _don’t_ start on that ‘but your cause is more important and understandable’ bullshit, Jack, because it’s _wrong._ We both need something here… and we’re both using someone else to get it. But I’m okay with that, because I _want_ to help you. And I know you want to help me too.”

Jack glanced up again at Mark’s admission, searching his half-frozen face for any indication of a lie to make Jack feel better. Mark seemed to be being honest. And it did...it did make sense. “...I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

“‘Course not. You were too busy kicking yourself in the pants. That’s what I’m here for.” Mark’s tone was good natured.

Jack downplayed his own needs in favor of Mark’s, but that was because Mark’s needs were so much sharper and more important than his. Jack already felt safe in his own home. He could get through the night without screaming himself awake. He could be in front of cameras and smile and laugh and _touch_ and Mark couldn’t do _any_ of that. Of course Mark’s needs were more pressing.

Mark had been snatched from his bed. In the hospital, there were beeps and hums and plenty of people just outside the room so Mark never felt completely alone like he had been at the hotel. Here, here there was only Jack, and if Jack kept insisting on leaving Mark alone...no wonder Mark had asked him to stay. Mark would eventually need to learn to sleep without Jack, but Jack would need to learn to sleep without Mark too, eventually...and it wasn’t like eventually had to happen right away. Jack kept telling Mark that, after all. _You’re not fully healed yet. How can you begin healing mentally when you’re still physically injured?_ Sleep would help with all of the injuries, physical, mental, emotional…

Mark using Jack while Jack couldn’t use Mark wasn’t okay because Mark’s cause was more important and understandable (it was, despite Mark’s protests). Jack had such a problem with it because Jack’s was more...it wasn’t _entirely_ sexual, but it was practically borderline. And in light of everything Mark had gone through… “I guess...I mean, I guess if you’re okay with it…” If Mark knew why Jack slept better with him and didn’t see a problem...If _Mark_ didn’t have a problem with it, why was Jack?

“I’m okay with it. Even if I get anxious or panic again, I’m _okay_ with it. You know I can’t control my reflexes or reactions, Jack. I can only try to keep a handle on the aftermath…. And they’re not a representation of how I really feel. That stuff I said last night, before we fell asleep? _That’s_ how I felt. Not my actions this morning.” Mark snorted softly at the question. He removed the ice from his face and prodded at his cheek with a finger.

“So...what, when I come in with tea, I also bring pillows?”

“If you want to grab one, maybe. I don’t know. We could just try sleeping further apart at first? Maybe you only clung so badly because we were holding hands. If we wake up, and you’re still on me… then we can try the pillows. It’s not like we’re cutting the bed in half if we use them. Just making it harder for you to smother me like a human teddy bear.”

“I didn’t cling because we were holding hands,” Jack said. “At least, that’s never been the reason before. I don’t usually go to sleep holding hands…” Even on nights when he and Signe had just collapsed into their respective sides of the bed, not even touching, Jack would be wrapped around her when she woke up (or so she claimed).

Mark shrugged. “Well, you’ve never really shared a bed with anyone but your girlfriends or like, your siblings maybe, right? Maybe you won’t be so clingy if you don’t feel like there’s a connection. We can adjust and see what happens. I controlled my anxiety once- I can do it again.”

Mark didn’t think he felt a connection? _Really_ , Mark? The entire internet felt their connection. That was precisely _why_ Septiplier was such a thing, why they had been targeted, why Mark had been tortured… “I just...I hate making you panic. I know it’s not something you can control, but just knowing that I triggered your discomfort in any way…” Jack shuffled his feet, looking down again. “If you really want to try, though...okay. We can try.”

“You won’t forever. You’ve already stopped making me panic for so many other things, Jack. And I’ll take a few mornings of confused anxiety for more nights of good sleep. To know _you’re_ getting rest so you can better put up with all of _my_ daily bullshit. I really want to try. **_Really._** For us.

“Jack.” Mark was calling his name, though, so Jack looked up at him again, hoping his skepticism wasn’t too strong on his face.

It didn’t have to be. Mark lifted his arms in a universal sign for a hug.

“Come here. Please? It’s okay. We’re gonna be okay.”

Mark was asking for a hug, and Jack was moving even before Mark verbalized the question, pushing away from the counter and moving into Mark’s arms like he was drawn by a magnet.

Automatic reaction or not, Jack still had the presence of mind to move slowly, to take his time folding his arms around Mark’s back and keep his hold loose. He wasn’t crying this time. Neither was Mark. This wasn’t a wet and soppy hug, but it did ignite a wave of warmth that chased away his tension.

Jack tentatively rested his chin on Mark’s shoulder, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

Slowly, almost painfully slowly, Mark’s arms dropped around Jack’s waist, holding him as lightly as was humanly possible. After a moment, his grip tightened, pressing their chests together. One hand gripped the back of Jack’s shirt. Eventually, Mark’s chin came to rest on Jack’s shoulder, and Jack could feel the tension just wash away from Mark’s body.

“You don’t think we have a connection?” he asked softly, voicing his earlier skepticism. This hug alone proved that wrong. It wasn’t romantic, or sexual, but it was definitely _there_ , a deep bond between them that Jack cherished every day since he had first heard his name in that impossibly sexy voice.

Heh. Maybe it wasn’t romantic or sexual between them _both_ , but Jack knew better than to deny _any_ sort of feelings for the man he was hugging. That was precisely _why_ he felt uncomfortable using Mark to get some sleep. He knew it wasn’t entirely innocent within the confines of his own mind.

Mark gave a tiny shiver, only noticeable because of how close he was to Jack. “N-not- I mean, I was talking about like… like a romantic connection, or, familial, y’know…. Things that'd make you naturally inclined to reach out and cling more. That sort of thing. Like with your girlfriends or your siblings. I'm… not, those things, so…. Just thought maybe you wouldn't find me as clingable, I guess.” He paused, then huffed out a sigh. “And that made absolutely no sense at all, did it??”

Jack didn't hug Mark tighter, but he did hug him looser, less cautious and more just _touching_. He could feel Mark’s heart pounding against his chest and wanted so badly to do something to help him calm down...but doing nothing was probably the best he could do, just stand there and let Mark hug him. Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting his lungs fill with the scent of Mark, Mark healthy and clean and almost as good as hugging him at a convention.

“Oh, yeah, no, I get we don't have a romantic connection or anything like that, no matter what the fans say,” Jack was quick to reassure Mark. “But, I mean...we do have _something_. Even if you weren't already my best friend, this whole mess…”

They were bonded together in a way YouTube hadn't done, united in a crucible of torture. From a pink collar to lullabies, holding hands under a willow and making breakfast for each other, there would forever be an aspect of _togetherness_ that no amount of time or distance would ever manage to break. Jack had no doubt that when he was eighty, Mark Fischbach would still be one of the most special people in his life.

Mark nodded. He nuzzled against Jack’s neck. _Fuck_. Mark was nuzzling and Jack was going to need to back away before his body got any ideas this close to the warmth of Mark's body and his heartbeat and that intimate little gesture of affection…

And then Jack _shrieked_ at the sudden ice shoved down his pants, flailing away from Mark and snatching at the bag.

“Please don't think I'm _cold_ or anything, but I couldn't resist.” Mark had a goddamn _smirk_ on his face as he danced away from Jack.

“ _Mark Edward Fischbach!_ Fucking _hell_ , Jesus Christ, you bastard!” Jack threw the bag of ice at the sink, pouting and rubbing his cold ass...And giggling all the same, because yeah, yes, that was a good one, he'd set himself up for it, and the fact that _Mark_ had done it, without any prompting… “You're the ice-lover here, Jesus! See if I try to be nice to you again!” Pout. Giggle. Pout.

Mark was laughing behind him, his face red from the ice and giddiness, one hand over his mouth, the other bracing himself against his knee. “Awww c’mon, Jack. (Heeheehee.) It was j-just a little joke. (Snerk, huhuhuh.) You made it too easy, h-how could I not?? B-besides, you're laughing! I see you! Admit it, that was good!!”

“You...you _ass_!” Jack was still spluttering, but the laughter was winning over the pout, especially as Mark crumpled with his own laughter. “You...If any pictures of _that_ end up on your Twitter, ooh, payback will be a _bitch_!”

Mark had to be feeling better. He _had_ to, if he could shove ice down Jack pants and giggle like a loon afterwards. Maybe this sleeping together thing had some merit after all...

“Yes, I have an ass.” Mark giggled again and held up his empty hands. “No phone. Don't worry. Would have made a great post, though. JackFrigidAss: now with twice the frozen buns for your buck.” Mark doubled over laughing again.

“Just for that, it's _cereal_ for breakfast. See if I'm gonna cook anything for such an ungrateful little prick!” Jack was still laughing. He wasn't hurt by the prank, or offended, just a little cold. It was a small price to pay for Mark's good mood.

Mark was wheezing as he tried to regain his breath between bursts of laughter. “Oh no Jack please, not cereal, whatever has happened to make your heart so cold?” He ducked out of the kitchen quickly. “Make me a bowl and I'll love you forever!”

“Damn right you will!” Jack stuck out his tongue at Mark as the other man fled into the relative safety of the dining room. “Gee, I don't know, maybe someone _shoved a bag of ice in my chest!_ ”

“Well that just sounds _terrible!!_ They should be apprehended and made to pay for such a heinous crime!”

“Now who would have done such a thing?” Jack was still chuckling as he pulled out two bowls and dumped corn flakes into them.

“Why only the most fiendish of fiends, surely. Maybe it was those damn badgers.”

Jack stuck the bowls on a tray, then added the carton of milk, a pair of spoons, and two mugs of coffee as soon as they were ready. Breakfast ‘made,’ he carried the tray out to the other room and set it at his spot, not offering half to Mark. “What's the magic words?”

“Abracadabra? Hocus pocus? Open says me? Or maybe open se _sam_ e? Huh? Huh? No? Well if you get me a hat I can try to pull a Bunniplier out of it.”

Jack poured some milk into his coffee, then into his cereal and picked up a spoon. “Nope, nuh-uh, not the right magic words…”

It was a joke, just a joke, but the longer Jack carried it on, the more nervous he got. He didn't want to make Mark _beg_ for his breakfast, like some kind of dog. The moment Mark started getting uncomfortable with the jesting, Jack would cave. The very _moment_. As long as Mark kept grinning, though, Jack would hold out for a “please" or “sorry.”

Mark pouted, twiddling his fingers together in front of him with mock nerves. “Fiiiine. Pleeeeaaase can I have my breakfast now, oh fabulous roommate of mine? I'm sorry for ruining the hotness of your skinny Irish butt. Maybe if you ask nicely Disney will cast you in their Frozen sequel as an ice prince.”

“Hmph. If you'd thrown in a ‘senpai,’ that would have been about perfect.” Jack took his food off the tray and slid the rest across the table to Mark. “There you go, you ungrateful little snowman. Think twice next time before freezing my ass, or I'll bring you nothing but ice next time you need something!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	24. Evening 149: Attack on Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark has a very important question.

All things considered, the day had gone very well. Jack had recorded his videos fairly early on in the morning, then left the house after lunch to get his hair done. His hairdresser, a cheerful woman named Maggie, listened to Jack talking about Mark and happily agreed to make a house call for him. Jack thanked her profusely, laying on as much charm as he could and promising her dinner in addition to payment, and she waved him out the door with a laugh, his hair freshly green and no longer resembling an overgrown meadow.

Mark had survived the several hours alone in the cottage without a panic attack (or at least without one he told Jack about). He spent most of his time in the garden, but dinner was just about ready when Jack returned. Jack had been blown away once again by how _awesome_ it was to have a housemate who knew how to cook.

After dinner, Jack curled up on the couch with his laptop, going through YouTube comments, Twitter, Tumblr, and Instagram. Speaking of Instagram, Jack tossed Mark his phone and asked him to take a picture of Jack on his laptop. That got posted with the caption “Working hard or hardly working?” So original. Ugh. It raked in the likes and comments despite the lackluster caption, and Jack grinned to see how many were squealing over the fact that _someone else took the picture_. Proof that Mark still existed! As if the occasional selfie or text post he put up wasn’t enough!

Of course it wasn’t enough. Their communities were insatiable. Jack fed his regularly to the best of his ability, spending long hours with the comments and tags, but Mark was still recovering. His community had been left to fend for themselves for so long, and they went wild over every scrap of _new_ Mark could share with them. At least they were largely being respectful. The Markiplier tag was slowly clearing of the horror room, filling instead with fanart of Mark inspired by what few selfies he had managed to share. The garden featured heavily, as did Jack. There were _so many_ fanarts of Mark and Jack and ha, here was a new one already of Mark taking the photo of Jack. Jack grinned and reblogged it with #Markifart. Anything he tagged like that was safe for Mark to see and probably not triggery, so when Mark ventured onto Tumblr, he could search that way, see all the good without the bad.

There was another piece of fanart, Jack with green angel wings curled protectively around Mark, Mark clinging to his shoulders. Jack hesitated, his cursor hovering over the reblog button. It was a gorgeous piece of work. Jack loved the protectiveness in his face, the way his arms were wrapped around Mark, sheltering him, his blue eyes daring the world to hurt the...yup, _#smol cinnamon roll_ in his arms. And Mark...Mark looked tired more than anything, but the way he was holding onto Jack, he didn’t look _scared_ , just...exhausted. Like he wanted to be left alone. Too true. Jack hesitated, then simply clicked the Like button. He also right-clicked on the art and saved it to his hard drive. It was beautiful and what Jack strived for, but it was also a complete lie. Jack was no angel. He just wanted to keep Mark safe.

Gifs from his latest video came next, including a set of where he had stubbed his toe on his desk leg during a victory celebration, wailing and hopping on one foot and laughing all at the same time. Jack grinned and reblogged that set as well. #it really hurt! #this is why I prefer shoes inside #owowowow #all better now.

“Hey, Jack….”

Jack looked up when Mark called his name, immediately smiling at the sight just inside the door. Mark was dressed in _Mark’s_ pyjamas, not Jack’s, and even with his too-long hair all wet and floppy, he looked adorably like himself again (and adorably adorable). Even the collar snug around his neck didn’t stand out too badly. It matched the pink mustaches decorating his pants, after all. “Yeah?”

Mark shuffled from foot to foot, clearly hesitant about his next words. He was fidgeting with Jack’s bracelet, opening and closing his mouth a few times. As Mark hesitated, Jack glanced down at his laptop, finished typing his reply, and submitted his post before he closed the lid and set it aside, letting Mark have his full focus. The other man clearly wanted to say something, and Jack didn’t want him to feel like he was being brushed off.

“You wanna try sharing the bed tonight?”

The question Mark actually asked surprised Jack, and he cocked his head to the side, puzzled. “Weren’t we already gonna try that? Instead of just tea, I’d also bring extra pillows?” There was a little flutter in his chest, nervousness at actually _willingly, knowingly_ sleeping beside Mark and probably clinging to him...but Mark asked for it. Mark genuinely thought it would help, and he was okay with the idea of Jack clinging, at least.

“No, I meant… the whole…could you maybe come to bed with me? As in, uh, now? Right away? If… you’re not busy, I mean. If you’re working on stuff you can just… slip in later, or… or we wait. For when I wake up. It was just… I was just wondering, that’s all.” Mark rubbed at the back of his neck, his fingers immediately dropping to his collar.

Jack had no problems admitting that he was a fanboy, and that he had been a fanboy of Markiplier for the longest time. He had a much harder time admitting that he was one of _those_ fanboys, who used to lie awake at night with his eyes squeezed shut and his hand down his pants, imagining Markiplier saying things like ‘come to bed with me.’ (In his defense, he didn’t _actually_ fantasize about Mark all that much and then proceed to shove his hand down his pants. Mark usually just hijacked his fantasies all on his own, once the hand was already there.) In no fantasy did Mark say that while _fidgeting_ , with such hesitation in his voice and worry in his face. It helped restart Jack’s brain.

“Oh, like...you think...from the start? Like...from the start?” Yeah, Jack. From the start. Jack nearly facepalmed. “I guess, I mean, it would be easier to...get situated while we were both awake…” But would it be easier to fall asleep when they were both awake? (How else do you fall asleep?) Mark nodded _._ “I, uh...I mean, I’m not really busy, just comments and stuff…” Jack glanced at his laptop and then rubbed his fingers through his hair. “I can, um…” 

Mark wanted him to. From the simple fact that Mark had _asked_ Jack if they could do this, specifically found the words and risked “upsetting” him (not that Jack could be upset at Mark for anything like this, but Mark’s brain was still on the fritz sometimes), Mark _wanted_ this, thought it was the best choice of action, and was willing to take a risk for it. Jack’s uncertainty leaked out like air from a deflating balloon. “Yeah, sure.” He found a smile for Mark, still nervous, but pleased that Mark had put himself out there. It was a step in his recovery. “If you wanna go around and rustle up extra pillows for the pillow wall, I can get ready for bed?”

Mark’s head snapped up to meet Jack’s gaze, his hand dropping off his collar and hanging loose by his side, a visual sign of the drop in his anxiety level. “Yeah… yeah, okay. I can do that. Take all the time you need.” He gave a tiny smile and shuffled out of the room.

Jack’s nerves dissipated a bit more at Mark’s obvious relief. He really had worked up to the question, and Jack had given the right answer. Of course, the right answer meant he would be sleeping beside Mark _all night long_ now, but...was that really so bad? _Really?_ Aside from Mark’s mild panic this morning...they had both slept very well. Jack felt better today than he had in a long time. Heh. Maybe it would be all right.

Jack flipped his laptop open again to shut things down properly, setting it aside on the couch for the night. He wandered toward his room, but he paused outside Mark’s door and gave a knock. “Hey. Make sure you’re on the same side as your glasses, okay?” At least if there was nothing between Mark and his glasses, if he woke up in a panic, he didn’t have to abandon them and run out blindly again. The bruises on his face weren’t too bad, but they _were_ noticeable. Thomas was probably going to scowl at Jack when he showed up if they hadn’t faded quickly enough.

“Huh? Oh. Oh, yeah. Right. Got it. Thanks Jack.” 

Sleeping with Mark all night also meant that Jack actually had to wear nightclothes of some kind. He padded into his room and rummaged through his drawers, pulling out the loungewear he usually brought with him when on trips: lightweight pants and a t-shirt. Nothing fancy. He changed, checking his shirt to make sure it hadn’t turned green from the fresh dye job (it hadn’t), and left his own glasses in his room. He didn’t _need_ them to see like Mark did. They just made things not on a computer screen _easier_ to see.

Pyjamas settled, Jack went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face and empty his bladder, taking as much time as he could for Mark’s sake. He actually didn’t want to dawdle _too_ long, though. The more he lingered over the sink, the more his nerves started to come back, poking him in the belly and whispering doubts into his head.

 _Shut up. Mark wanted this._ Jack gave himself a stern glare in the mirror, then giggled and pushed his hair out of his eyes. Okay. No more reason to delay. He forced himself down the hall and back to Mark’s door, knocking on it again. “Mark?”

“All set. You can come on in.”

Jack opened Mark’s door and flipped off the hall light before coming in. He paused to look over the pillow wall, smiling at what he could see. Mark was already snuggled beneath the duvet, a wall of probably at least five pillows tucked beside him. “Yeah, that looks pretty sturdy.” He wouldn’t be able to see Mark over the pillows, so maybe he wouldn’t even _try_ to cling. Even if he did, he’d be completely blocked off from Mark. It was far more likely he’d end up cuddling the wall instead of Mark. That was good. Better. Best, even.

Mark beamed with his eyes. “Thanks. I _was_ almost an engineer, y’know.” 

“Yeah, well I _am_ a hotel management expert, and this is a good use of pillows and bed space. Tidiness of the room could use a bit of work, but since it is currently occupied by a guest, you can only do the best you can while working around them.”

Closing the door behind him, Jack made his way to the other side of the bed. He pulled back the duvet and sat on the edge, looking over at Mark all tucked in and snuggled up with Chica Junior. _You’re adorable._ “Not doubting,” he said, a faint little smile playing across his face at the sight of Mark all ready for bed and _not_ shaking off the effects of a nightmare, “but just final confirmation. You sure about this?”

Mark was allowed to back out at any time. If he didn’t feel comfortable, if he wanted to kick Jack back to his own room halfway through the night, it was fine. Mark had complete control. It was his bed, his room, his choice.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure. But… uh, if _you’re_ uncomfortable at any time, then…. Th-the same rules apply to you, okay? You can leave. I won’t be upset.” 

Jack swung his legs onto the bed, pulling the duvet up. “I’m fine with this, Mark, really. I mean, as long as you aren’t freaking out, I won’t be.” And he really wouldn’t. The wall was substantial between them. It wasn’t like he was actually sleeping with Mark at all. They were practically in separate beds in the same room.

 _“Sie sind das essen und wir sind die jager….”_ Mark whispered in a rather spot-on German accent, before ducking his face beneath the blanket with a giggle.

Just as he was about to settle down, Mark murmured _that_ , and Jack’s ears perked up immediately, turning to look over the pillows at Mark. Mark was tucked beneath the duvet, but his giggles were audible even muffled, and Jack had to snicker right back. “And on that day,” he intoned, puffing up his chest to “loom” over the wall as best he could, “humanity received a grim reminder…”

Mark just cracked up, tugging the duvet down enough to toss out another comment accompanied by waggling eyebrows. “Looks more like a _green reminder_ to me.”

Jack lost it at that, collapsing onto his own pillow (not the wall) with a hearty laugh. He slapped the mattress with his hand, pretending that he was attacking the wall. “Arrrrgh! Wall Marcus is holding up against my strength! I’m not skinless enough to get through!”

His nerves over this setup were gone. They weren’t _sleeping_ together. It was more like a sleepover, like when Jack would stay at Mark’s house and they’d stay up too late, getting crazier and crazier the longer the night stretched on. Mark joined in with a rare belly laugh, and the two of them laughed their tension away.

When their giggling died down and the room’s silence washed back over them, Mark gave a sigh and angled a quiet smile toward the ceiling. “...we are… complete and utter nerds, aren’t we?”

Jack adjusted the duvet with a happy sigh of his own, rolling onto his side and tucking an arm beneath the pillow. “The completest and most utter nerds that ever nerded. And I love it.” Life had become so much better once Jack stopped trying to be _cool_ and embraced his inner dork. And somehow, by doing that, Jack managed to become cool. At least in certain groups. And yes, maybe they were niche groups, but a niche of fifteen million was still pretty damn cool.

“Forgot how much I did. Thanks for reminding me. But nerds need sleep too. Important stuff to do tomorrow. Night, Jack. See you in the morning.” 

“Party planning,” Jack agreed, closing his eyes. “We need to make sure Thomas can’t possibly say no to us.” He smiled and snuggled deeper into the pillows. “Good night Mark. Sleep well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	25. Day 151: The Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark gets a haircut, and Jack gets a kiss!

“Jack! Hiya! I _love_ the house!”

Jack opened the door to an armful of Maggie, his hairdresser. She was casually dressed in a low-cut t-shirt and jeans that hugged her ample curves. Her blonde curls were tied back in an intentionally messy ponytail, and she was holding a bag of her tools. Maggie beamed at him, giving him a tight hug and filling his nose with her perfume before sashaying inside. “Oh my god, you _have_ to give me a tour. I wanna see where the magic happens!”

“Hello, Maggie.” Jack smiled back as he closed and relocked the door. It didn't matter how quiet and safe this road was. The door remained locked at all times for Mark's sanity. “Mark's finishing up dinner, but I can give you a quick tour.”

“I can't wait to meet your friend,” Maggie gushed. “He's the one who made you go green in the first place, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Jack agreed. “Without Mark, we never would have met.”

“Remind me to thank him!”

“You can thank him now!” Jack laughed as he led Maggie to the kitchen. “Mark, this is Maggie. Maggie, Mark.” Mark was stirring a pot when they came in. He looked up and gave Maggie an entirely fake smile, but Jack figured it was good enough. Maggie didn’t know Mark’s tells the way Jack did. This was a high-stress situation for him as it was. _Any_ smile was good enough.

“Hiya, sweetie!” Maggie had been coached by Jack in advance, so she didn't go for a hug with Mark. She just beamed at him, wiggling perfectly manicured nails in a little wave. “Jack has told me so much about you! Oh my, you really _do_ have a mop-head going on there! Don't worry, hon, I'll get you tidied up in no time!”

Jack watched Maggie introduce herself to Mark, wondering if her boisterous personality might be too much for Mark just yet. Too late now. He glanced Mark's way, hoping Mark could hold it together.

“Hey there. Thanks so much for coming out and doing this. It really means a lot to us. You taking her on a tour, Jack?” Mark glanced to Jack for confirmation and possibly for reassurance. “Make sure you show her the garden. It's the best part of the house.”

“Oh please, I do house calls all the time. It's a treat to get to do someone so _cute_!” Maggie laughed, her hands curling around Jack's arm with a little squeeze. “Usually they're little old shut-ins.”

Jack smiled at Maggie before turning that smile on Mark. “Yeah, I was going to show her around. Dinner smells delicious.” Mark was still smiling, but it wasn't in his eyes (unlike most of his recent smiles, which were _only_ in his eyes). He was nervous. _It's okay,_ Jack wanted to tell him. _I'm here._

They were trying to be normal roommates, though, at least in front of outsiders. “Shouldn't take very long. It's not a big house. This way, Maggie!”

Maggie beamed another smile at Mark, looping her arm through Jack's as he took her on a tour. “So, bathroom is this door, and this one's my room…”

“Ooh, nice bed!” Maggie pulled away from Jack's arm to go sit on his bed. She bounced a little and grinned at him. “I always thought a bed could tell you a lot about a person. I like the bars. Is this where all the magic happens?”

“Heh, no, I'm not a bedroom vlogger. My recording room is down the hall.” Jack stood in the doorway watching Maggie. It was so weird to have his hairdresser sitting on his bed. He half wanted to chase her away...but it was just a bed.

“Show me?” Maggie had a smile to rival Jack's in brightness, and she was aiming it at him now. She was always so cheerful. It was one of the reasons he liked going to her so much.

“Yeah, of course. This way.”

Maggie's arm looped through Jack's again as they went down the hall. He could tell she didn't know what she was looking at in his studio, but she cooed over all the Jacksepticeye custom POPs and gave jumbo Sam a squish.

“And then Mark's room is the last room-room,” Jack said as they headed back. Garden could be last on the tour if Mark wasn't ready yet.

“Separate rooms?” Maggie asked, poking her head into Mark's room.

“Well, _yeah_.” Jack frowned a little, fighting the urge to shuffle his feet. “We're not _boyfriends_.” They just slept on the same bed. Because it meant sometimes they could both get through the night without nightmares. It didn't mean anything else. After that first morning, when Jack realized Mark hadn't woken up screaming for the first time since he left that room, he stopped even thinking about protesting. It didn't chase away all of the horrors from their dreams, but having company helped them both.

“Oh good,” Maggie said. “Not that there'd be anything wrong if you _were_. It's just always a shame when the cute ones are gay.”

“Well, we're not.” _Only a little on my end._ Jack smiled at Maggie. “Want to see the garden?”

Maggie gushed over the garden, loving the trees and the flowers and the river. When they came back inside, she leaned against the counter and grinned at Mark. “Jack told me the garden was all your doing! You have a real green thumb! It's beautiful!”

Mark’s answering smile tugged at his mouth but didn’t do a thing for the shadows in his eyes. “Thanks. I’ve always loved the outdoors. And I’ve had a lot of time to work on it. The weather here’s not so bad. Dinner’s ready, if you guys wanna go sit down. I’ll bring out the bowls.”

Both Jack and Maggie gave Mark an incredulous stare. “...I guess it hasn’t rained _that_ much since you got here…” Jack finally admitted. Mark was still on edge. Jack patted Maggie’s hand on his arm. “Why don’t you go take a seat in the dining room? I’ll get the drinks.”

“Oh thanks, hon! You’re the sweetest!” Maggie flashed Jack another one of those bright smiles before detangling herself and retreating to the dining room. Jack didn’t have complete privacy with Mark, but it was enough for him to move closer to the other man.

“You okay?” Jack asked under his breath as he opened a cupboard and began fishing out glasses. “She’s a bit loud, but… I mean, if you need to call it off…” Mark’s smiles were too stiff, his eyes too wide. Jack didn’t want to push Mark too far, too fast. Worst case scenario, they could always try to let Jack give Mark a haircut, though Jack was fairly sure that would end disastrously for every reason imaginable.

Mark’s smile immediately dropped as soon as Maggie was out of the room, and his focus turned to the bowls he was filling. He shook his head at Jack’s offer. “She is loud. But it’s fine. It’s just me. I’ll get over it. _I will._ ” His weight shifted, and his elbow bumped against Jack’s. “I’ll be okay. Promise. Just… try to keep me distracted.”

“Kick me under the table or something if you need to,” Jack said, bumping Mark’s elbow right back and angling a smile his way. “And she...she does know that you have trauma.” It had been all over the news, after all, both when Mark was taken and when he was returned. Athlone finally had a genuine international scandal, and it was all anyone had talked about for weeks.

Also, Jack had gotten his hair cut while Mark was kidnapped, and hairdressers were professional conversationalists. He hadn’t told Maggie any details, but she did know that his best friend Mark had been kidnapped. It really wasn’t too hard to put two and two together even if Jack hadn’t warned her against too much touching.

“If you have a bruise tomorrow, don’t be mad at me.” Mark covered the pot with a lid and dropped spoons in the bowls. “Let’s go eat so you can revel in my awesomeness again.”

Mark’s smile this time was much warmer, even if his mouth didn’t move, and Jack nudged their elbows together again before heading to the fridge. He had cleared out the alcohol before Mark moved in, just to make sure that fresh-from-the-hospital Mark wasn’t tempted to test his alcohol intolerance in an attempt to cope with his new issues. That had been another one of Felix’s suggestions. Jack hated him for it, but he was also slightly grateful. It had forced him to go rather cold turkey as well, so _he_ wasn’t tempted to pickle his liver again. For Maggie’s visit, though, he had bought a case of beer. They were _Irish_. It would be weird if they didn’t drink.

“Coke?” Jack asked as he pulled out two bottles for Maggie and himself. God, it had been _forever_ since he’d had a beer. His mum would be so ashamed of him. He’d only have one tonight.

“Sure. Help me sprout an extra arm while you’re at it? Don’t think it’d be smart to balance a giant bowl full of steaming hot soup and dumplings on my arm.” Mark was pouting at his bowls of dumplings.

“Uh…” Jack looked at the two bottles and one can he was holding, then at the three glasses on the counter, then at the three bowls Mark had served. He turned wide blue eyes to the other man. “We done fucked up.” Mark almost laughed, _No shit!_ written blatantly across his face.

Never fear! Jack knew exactly what to do! He set the drinks beside the glasses and started opening cupboards. “Wait, wait, it has to be around here somewhere, it has to be...aha!” Jack clambered onto the counter to reach into the top of one of the upper cabinets, pulling out a serving tray triumphantly. “Ha! And I thought I’d never have a use for this...guess Mum was right.” His mother had gifted him the tray and various other household items that Jack had scoffed at when he first moved out, like a trash can, a step stool, and coat hooks.

The tray had been the only one he hadn’t used yet.

Mark hovered behind Jack, his arms lifted as if Jack were about to fall any minute. “Apparently, she was also right about you having a bad habit of climbing onto things that _shouldn’t be climbed on._ ”

“I know what I’m doing!” Jack protested as he made his way back down. “I do this _all the time_. Jesus, Mark, you’re short too! You can’t tell me you’ve never climbed on the counter before!” At least it wasn’t a spinny chair. He’d done that before. He wouldn’t tell Mark, if Mark was so nervous about him being on the counter.

Jack slid off the counter and transferred the glasses and drinks onto the tray before he held it out to Mark. “Load me up, Markiplier!”

Mark just shook his head at Jack’s antics. “All right, Jacksepticeye, you asked for it. Don’t pull a sitcom and dump the whole thing on our guest now.” He set the bowls on the tray and moved out of Jack’s way. “So what, I’m the chefiplier here and you’re the septic… butler…? Your username doesn’t make jokes easy. At all.”

The tray was heavy with all three settings on it, but nothing Jack couldn’t handle. “Chefiplier and Jackservereye,” Jack declared with a nod. “We make a good team, Chef. And now we have our lovely dinner guest to entertain.” He headed out of the kitchen to where Maggie was waiting at the table. She was sitting in Jack’s usual spot, which was actually the best place for her. That way, Mark could have his usual seat, and Jack could sit between them. Perfect.

“Mm, it smells so good!” Maggie enthused as Jack set her bowl and beer in front of her. “Jack assured me this was the best meal he’d ever had, and I have to say, I did doubt him, but now that I’m smelling it…”

“It tastes as good as it smells,” Jack said. “Mark’s a genius with food.” He set Mark’s dishes in front of him, then his, and set the tray off to the side. Good. Food for all, Maggie was happy, and Jack was providing a bit of a buffer. He took his seat and picked up his spoon.

Mark smiled a little. “Hey now, c’mon, you’re gonna make me blush here…. Don’t say you love it ‘til you try it. Then you can worship the ground at my feet. Careful though, it’s hot. Just ask Jack- he learned his lesson the first time.”

“It’s, yeah. Hot.” Jack already had a dumpling in his mouth, mumbling around the food. Maggie giggled, reaching out to give his arm a nudge.

“I’ll let it cool down a little first!” She opened her beer and poured it into her glass. “Thank you for providing dinner too, Jack. Most of my clients just pay and gab my ear off.”

“Dinner was Mark’s idea.” Jack had to give up on the dumpling. It really was _way_ too hot. “And the recipe was his too. Really, all I did was the shopping.”

“The invitation was all yours.” Maggie’s fingers squeezed around Jack’s forearm for a moment. She really was touching him a lot tonight. Was she usually this handsy? Jack couldn’t remember. “How did you two meet, anyway?”

“Uh…” Jack glanced over at Mark. “Define meet? I found his YouTube channel and subscribed, then I started making my own stuff. He started following me, and reached out to collaborate...it still took _ages_ before we actually met face to face at PAX. Uh, a convention. Mark managed to pull some strings to get me a last-minute pass.”

Mark was watching the pair of them with dark eyes. “I thought he was gonna explode when I told him about the pass. He’d never even been to the U.S. before.”

“Oh god, yeah! That was easily the best weekend I _ever_ had!” Jack grinned over at Mark. “I mean, I figured I was just going to meet Mark and Bob and Wade, and Yami was gonna be there, but it was really the first time that I got to meet a lot of my community too! People were actually coming up to me for autographs and pictures...it was so cool!” Jack nudged Mark’s foot under the table. “Thanks again for that. If you hadn’t dragged me kicking and screaming over to the States, I probably still would be hiding out over here.” Mark nudged him back, a soft smile in his eyes.

“It’s still so hard to think of you as _famous_ ,” Maggie said with a shake of her head. “I mean, you’re just Jack! I get to dye your hair!” She reached over, running her fingers through the green. “You make it look good. A lot of guys who go for the bright colors tend to come across as douchebags, but you’re too much of a sweetheart.”

“Ah, thanks.” Jack looked back to Maggie with his smile, not quite as bright as when he was reminiscing over his very first PAX. “It’s really become one of my ‘things,’ like the hat and the screaming. And the Irish. Though there are still people who doubt I’m genuinely Irish. If the accent doesn’t do it, you’d think the skin color would!”

“He needs to tan, don’t you think?” Maggie asked Mark. “At the very least a spray tan. A golden glow will make you look so _healthy_! Look at Mark! He’s all tan!”

“That’s also natural,” Jack pointed out, but Maggie brushed it off with a wave of her hand.

Mark’s smile was tight as attention was returned to him. “I think he looks fine the way he is. I mean, tans aren’t for everyone. And artificial ones can be pretty unhealthy. If he’s happy with things I don’t see any real issue with it.” His expression loosened slightly as he turned to look at Jack.

Jack took the opportunity to stuff a dumpling in his mouth, returning Mark’s smile. _Delicious._ Also, he already had decided that tans were not for him. “Sorry, Maggie,” he said after swallowing. “Mark’s right. I’m not really the tanning sort of guy. And even if I _was_ , and I _did_ get a tan, my community would _freak out_. Best case scenario, they’d all demand to know where I went vacationing. Worst case, they’d accuse me of trying to actually _be_ Markiplier.” He shook his head. “Ain’t gonna happen.”

“What, you tanning or you actually _being_ Markiplier?” Mark teased.

“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” Maggie sighed, picking up her own spoon once both of the men had started eating the dumplings. “Mm, this _is_ delicious. You were absolutely right, Jack!”

“Told ya Mark’s the best!” Jack grinned at Mark again.

“So, is this what you do on your channel?” Maggie asked, turning her blue eyes to Mark for one of the first times all meal. “Cooking shows?”

Jack practically choked on his soup at the thought of Mark doing an actual _serious_ cooking show. He remembered the episodes Mark had been on for Nerdy Nummies, and how near-disaster those had been. He only _practically_ choked. He did manage to get the broth down the right pipe, but it was a close call, and he had to grab for his beer to wash it down.

Mark sputtered as well, though he had only been _about_ to take a drink, not mid-swallow as Jack had been.

Maggie reached over, patting Jack on the back. “You okay there, sweetie?”

Jack nodded, a slight flush to his face from his near-choking experience. “Yeah, just...don’t laugh and eat at the same time!”

“Aw what, Jack? Don't think I could do a cooking show? Have some faith, would you?” Mark shook his head, trying so hard to be teasing and happy even with a stranger around. “Nah, I don't do cooking stuff. At least, not seriously. I primarily switch between vlogging and let’s plays. Jack’s done a bunch of collaborations with me and some of our other friends.”

“I've seen your idea of a cooking show!” Jack reminded Mark. “It was amazing, but amazing like a train wreck!” Maggie giggled, and Jack turned to look at her. “Mark’s one of the top Let’s Players on YouTube. He's the one who inspired me to get started, like I said.”

“Oh, that's right!” Maggie grinned, though her smile was aimed more at Jack. “And he inspired the green too!” She flicked Jack’s fringe and looked over at Mark. “I was going to thank you for that! It's how Jack and I met, after all. He was going to go all-green, but I convinced him that just the top would look better.”

The rest of dinner passed in much the same way, with Maggie talking mainly to Jack and Mark growing more and more tense despite the distraction. There wasn't much Jack could do about that, though. So he kept his foot pressed against Mark’s beneath the table and kept pulling Maggie’s attention back whenever she looked to Mark.

Maggie hadn't come over just for dinner. After they all finished, she went for her bag of tools while Jack set a chair in the middle of the living room for Mark. “You gonna be okay?” he asked after Maggie excused herself for a quick bathroom break before getting started.

“Huh? Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah. I’ll be… I’ll be fine. Just get it over with, right?” Mark was obviously anxious, fidgeting with his bracelet and sinking heavily into the chair. He scratched at his neck for the umpteenth time that night, seemingly unaware of the gesture with his brow furrowed as he frowned and glared at a point on the wall.

“Yeah, uh-huh, I believe that.” Jack sat on the floor at Mark’s feet, crossing his legs under him and resting his arms on his knees.

“You’d better.” Mark huffed. Of course Jack wouldn’t believe him.

“I’ll be right here, whatever you need. You want me to talk, I can talk. You want me to hold your hands, I can hold your hands. You want to put a show on the tv, I’ve got tons of anime. We’re gonna get through this. It’ll be okay. Maggie’s nice, and she’s been very respectful of your boundaries so far...right?”

Mark glanced at Jack, some of his anger bleeding off to a pout. “...yeah….” he muttered.

Jack leaned forward to get into Mark’s eyeline, not liking that face. “Do you need Chica Junior?” he asked, watching Mark’s fingers go to his neck _yet again_. Jesus. This was the longest Mark had gone without his collar. Jack had hoped it was the start of getting rid of it completely, but…

His eyes widened, and he smacked his hands against his knees. “Want me to put the collar _on_ Chica Junior?” he asked Mark. “It’s not so weird if a stuffed dog is wearing it, and then you can hold CJ and have it and...maybe it’ll help?” Collaring a stuffed dog was nowhere near as traumatic as collaring a human broken down into thinking he _was_ a dog. Jack could easily do that without any sort of trauma to himself.

Mark was looking away, looking unhappy again, but he jumped back when Jack smacked his knees. He stared at Jack and scratched the back of his head. He eventually gave a nod. “I… guess that could help. Better than nothing, I suppose.”

“I’ll go get it right now,” Jack said, popping to his feet. “Don’t let her get started without me here.” Not that he thought Mark would be in any way okay with Maggie beginning to touch his hair without the security of Jack’s presence.

“No worries about that ever happening….”

Chica Junior and the collar were both in Mark’s room. Jack snagged the pink nylon from the dresser, resisting the urge to drop it in the trash. Even if nothing else, it was _Chica’s_ collar. He picked up Chica Junior from the head of Mark’s bed and secured the collar loosely around her neck. “Here you go, girl. A pretty collar for a pretty pup. You’re gonna hold this for your daddy, okay? He needs your help to stay calm. Good girl.” Jack patted the toy on the head before hurrying back to Mark. He walked in mid-conversation between the two others.

“It’s so good to see him smiling again," Maggie was saying.

“See who smiling?” Jack asked, returning with Chica Junior, a pink collar around her neck. He offered her to Mark, resuming his spot on the floor in front of him.

Mark’s hands clamped around the toy as soon as Jack passed her off, hugging her close. Immediately, he looked more relaxed. His fingers tweaked at the collar and he gave a soft little sigh..

“You, silly goose!” Maggie laughed, folding up the cape again. “We’ll go without the cape today. Did you want to try a towel around your shoulders? Ooh, does your little friend have a name? She’s so cute!”

Jack smiled, but he was looking at Mark, trying to silently ask him if he was all right, if he needed to hold Jack’s hand, or if Chica Junior would be enough.

Mark scratched the toy dog’s ears, staring at her and not looking at Maggie. “It’s… Chica Junior, she’s supposed to be like a toy version of the real thing. My dog. Chica, she’s back in L.A. right now, so Jack got me this in the meantime….” Mark shot Jack a grateful look, then snuck his hand across his knee toward Jack. “I think I could do a towel.”

“Oh, that is so sweet! Jack, you are so sweet!” Maggie beamed at Jack, who merely shrugged and smiled sheepishly.

“I’ve met Chica. She’s incredible. Of course I had to get Mark the toy when I saw her...Mark, why didn’t we call her _Toy Chica_? Like Five Nights at Freddy’s 2?” Jack slapped himself in the forehead, and on his way back down, caught Mark’s fingers with his so his hand didn’t drop fully. He gave Mark’s hand a little squeeze, smiling warmly at him.

Mark squeezed at Jack’s hand in return. “Are you trying to give me nightmares about a mannequin Chica chasing me down? I’ll have to pass on the irony and pun potential this time. Besides, she already has a name. Can’t just change it now.”

“Ugh, why can’t more guys be actually thoughtful like that?” Maggie shook her head, digging out a faded towel from her bag. “It looks splotchy from bleach, but I promise it’s clean. I wash it every time, stylist’s honor.” Maggie draped the towel around Mark’s shoulders, overlapping it behind his head. “How’s that, sweetie? Not too tight?”

Mark took a few deep breaths, but he didn’t panic. “Nah, that’s fine.”

Maggie really was being careful around Mark, Jack noted. More so than his own sister had been. When wrapping him in the towel, she barely touched him herself, and she was checking with Mark with everything she did…

But of course she knew what had happened to Mark. There had been pictures all over the place, even on the nightly news (though those had mercifully been censored and blurred). She knew Mark had been tortured. Everyone in Athlone knew Mark had been tortured. She was just the first person outside of the hospital and Jack’s family to actually _meet_ Mark.

“Now, I don’t like to cut hair dry. Wet is far more manageable. But I know giving you a wash first is out, so I brought a spray bottle. Just water inside.” Maggie showed it to Mark. “We’re going to try that first, okay? I’m going to saturate your hair, and then I’m going to trim it up. Jack gave me some pictures of how you usually get your haircut, and I’m going to do my best to match that style, unless you want something else?”

“All right. You can just do the style he showed you, I kind of miss it. I don’t even know how else I’d have you cut my hair, I’ve had it like that for so long. Just, uh… try not to pull on it too much?” Mark met Jack’s eyes, clearly trying to stay calm.

“Let me know if you need a break!” Maggie trilled before she began spraying Mark’s hair.

Jack squeezed Mark’s fingers again and gave him a smile. “So, speaking of Chica and horror games...I’ve kinda been putting off telling you about this because I didn’t want to drive you _too_ crazy, but...Resident Evil: Biohazard came out. It’s _incredible_. Definitely the sort of horror game your channel thrives on., so...there’s that. And I wonder...I mean, obviously you can’t do a terrifying horror game without a face cam, but maybe just recording gameplay is something we could try doing again? Or even just, you know how in everyone’s collaborations _but your own_ , only one person’s cam can be seen? If you wanted to do some collabs with me, we could get things set up. I mean, we could even edit the videos for your channel if you wanted to try that.” Jack shrugged. “It was just a thought, trying to figure out how to get you some content back.”

The Markiplier channel was definitely suffering without Mark producing new work. Jack hated the ever-widening gap between their subscriber levels. He couldn’t check on all of Mark’s analytics, but he had strong suspicions about what he’d see if he could. Mark was going to have a hard road back from his absence.

Mark flinched at the first sprays, but less and less with each additional one. His hand clenched on Jack’s, but it slowly eased up. “ _Fuck._ I just went and missed all the good game releases, didn’t I? Fuck. Resident Evil doesn’t really have a lot of jump scares, right? I mean, it’s not based on them or anything. It’s more gorror I think; with the zombies and stuff. I think I’d be able to do that. Especially if I wasn’t actually on camera….”

“Or,” Jack said, starting to smirk, “you _could_ revisit old games like Vanish with no face cam. _That_ would make people wet themselves with disbelief and joy and all kinds of giddiness…”

Video games were usually a safe topic of discussion, and Jack could see Maggie frowning slightly as she tried to follow their conversation. _Good luck._ It made perfect sense to Jack and Mark, but someone not in a YouTube community was going to struggle.

“I think… just gameplay recording would be a good way to get me back into it…. I could play some games that are really about the visuals; focus on the commentary so no one would mind a missing face cam. And… the collaboration idea, that sounds good too. Even if it’s my voice showing up on your channel, it could draw people back in…. It’s better than nothing.” Jack waited for Mark’s brain to register what Jack had offered, and he nearly laughed at the look on Mark’s face when it sank in.. “Christ, what is it with people and me playing that?? I told them I beat it. Why won’t anyone believe me?!”

Maggie set the bottle aside and picked up comb and scissors. “All right, sweetheart. I’m going to start now. Let me know if I’m tugging too hard!”

Mark gave a quiet nod. “Okay.”

“You can use my setup whenever I’m not,” Jack said. “Or we could set something up to record the tv down here. I’ve never actually done that, but I bet...hmm, if we set it up so we played Overwatch on the same screen or something, we could totally use the excuse of ‘no facecam because we suck at couch recording’ and use the footage for your channel. Or Prop Hunt, you can’t go wrong with Prop Hunt, especially not with Bob and Wade.”

As Jack chattered on about video games, he kept an eye on Maggie over Mark’s shoulder. She ran the comb through Mark’s hair before adding fingers and scissors. Her touch was light, but it was still a _touch_ , more than Jack had dared with Mark. The only time he’d felt Mark’s hair at all since the hospital was when he hugged him after telling him about Chica, and that had been a huge mistake. Jack was talking to Mark, but he was watching Maggie.

Maggie _was_ a professional, though, and very adept at cutting hair quickly. She combed through Mark’s hair without snagging it too badly, wielding her scissors deftly. If Jack had tried to give Mark a haircut, it would have taken _hours_ , with far too much crying and apologies. Maggie just snipped and snipped, red and black locks falling to the ground and getting caught on the towel Mark wore. Mark’s hand occasionally squeezed tight around Jack’s, but he seemed okay.

“Oh yeah, my setup isn’t here... damn. Well, the TV thing could work. Gives us more opportunity to make a bunch of Game Grumps jabs. I don’t know how long I have to stay in Ireland but I could piece together something simple so I don’t need to constantly _jack_ your setup….” Mark quirked a brow at his own pun. “But God, _Prop Hunt._ That is _exactly_ the kind of game I need to get back into the swing of things…. And it would be great to play with those two again. Just like old times.”

“Probably at least another month,” Jack said, trying to remember what Dr. Agon had told him last time he took Mark in for an appointment. “If you want to build something, we could...there _is_ a shop in town with parts, or we could just order online. We can set something up on your desk, or get another desk for the recording room as long as we’re not _recording_ at the same time.” Jack huffed a little laugh, looking away from Maggie to grin at Mark. “I can just see one of us trying to edit while the other is shouting into our mic. We might not be the best YouTubers to _share_ recording space…”

Not that Jack would really mind sharing with Mark. He could be quiet when he needed to be...and it might be funny to be raging out and suddenly have Mark speak up from off-screen, or vice-versa. Collaborating would be so much more fun in the same room too, with stupid victory dances and silent faces at the camera as hunters came too close to prop hiding spots. “We’ll figure something out.”

Mark snickered. “Personally, I think it’d be great to have such a prime opportunity for recording-bombing. Y’know, like _photo-_ bombing but not with pictures. Both our communities would eat it up. Of course, that _also_ gives you the chance to peek at my screen and cheat if we collab….”

“Yes, exactly what I was thinking!” Jack giggled. “We’ll just have to stay on the same team if we collab. It’s the only way we can be fair. Or play games where it’s really not cheating to look, like Rocket League. Looking at your screen there wouldn’t help at all.” Not that Jack would cheat like that. Mark would totally be the cheater.

“Moving to your side, hun. You’re looking better already.” Maggie shifted around to Mark’s side, combing through the too-long hair that hung in his face. “Look straight ahead please.”

Mark looked up when Maggie told him to, then back down at Jack, then back up again. His face went white as he kept forcing himself to stop looking at Jack. His hand gripped tightly around the collar. Jack’s stomach twisted, and he rubbed his thumb over Mark’s fingers. “So maybe tomorrow, we can start looking up computer parts for you,” he said, raising his voice a bit to try to catch Mark’s attention again. _Don’t go back into that room, don’t do it Mark, you’re here, you’re safe…_ “And a desk should be easy enough to get in town, so we don’t have to wait for shipping. We can put it together and get you a chair and…” And talking wasn’t really helping Mark. Jack glanced at Maggie, debating if he should tell her to hurry up or back off.

Red hair fell across his fingers, and Jack shook his head. “Maggie, can we take five? Mark? Mark, look at me here, okay?”

Maggie stepped back, frowning with concern as she pulled scissors and comb away from Mark’s hair. “Sweetie? You okay?”

Mark’s arm tightened around Chica Junior, and he slowly looked down. “Sean.” He squeezed Jack’s hand and took a few deep breaths, blinking rapidly. “I… I’m… sorry. Sorry, I just… I lost it, sorry, I…”

“That’s right, Mark, I’m here, I’m right here.” Jack squeezed Mark’s fingers again, sagging a little in relief as Mark looked at him. “It’s okay, Mark. You’re doing so much better than we thought you would.” Honestly, Jack had been afraid Mark would lose it the moment Maggie started touching his hair, and not most of the way through the cut. “And you didn’t fall too deep. It’s okay. Do you need a break? Want something to drink, or…” Or was it okay to return to the haircut? What had triggered Mark? Was it the scissors too close to his face? Jack’s eyes slid over to the pale scars on Mark’s face, trying to remember if any of those had been caused by scissors.

Maggie stayed where she was, holding her scissors and watching Jack as he calmed Mark down, a soft little smile on her face. Jack barely even noticed. Mark was the important one right now.

“I think you’re almost done. Just the bit in the front left.”

“Probably no more than ten minutes,” Maggie offered.

“I-I am?” Mark sounded incredulous, his gaze turning inward. “I… I guess I am.” He twisted his hand to lace his fingers through Jack’s. Jack pressed their palms together and smiled up at him. Mark really had come so far since that first disastrous haircut in the hospital. Jack was so, _so_ proud of him for getting this far.

“Could you maybe, uh… make some tea? While I calm down? I think it’d help…. Then, we should finish, I just want to get it over with.”

At Mark’s suggestion, Jack’s smile turned from purely proud to just a tiny bit smug. “And you doubted the healing power of a good cuppa,” he chided Mark lightly. But he knew exactly what sort of tea Mark wanted. He hadn’t needed to make Mark midnight tea ever since he started joining Mark in his bed from the start...and if Jack was being honest, he did kind of miss it. He hated the fact that Mark had nightmares (or that _he_ did), but sitting up and talking about absolutely nothing with Mark in the middle of the night had become treasured little moments, moments where Mark would be at his most open and honest, and Jack tried to reciprocate, or at least just listen.

Mark blew a raspberry at Jack. “Just got in the habit, that’s all. Like you and coffee. Shush.”

Jack missed the tea breaks, but he enjoyed being able to sleep through the night, even if he did tend to demolish the pillow wall in the process. Mark had never commented about Jack being too clingy, so Jack was never sure if he managed to thoroughly breach the barrier. He wasn’t about to ask. It was _working_. Nothing else really mattered.

“Maggie, would you like a cup?” Jack asked, squeezing Mark’s hand and tearing his gaze away to look up at the stylist. It was the height of bad manners to not offer a cup to everyone present. His mother would have been so ashamed if he didn’t offer. And if Maggie accepted-

“Oh, that sounds perfect!”

-Jack could use it as an excuse to get her out of the room. “Mind giving me a hand? Three mugs is a bit much for two hands…”

Maggie smiled warmly at him, setting her tools down. “Of course not!”

Jack got to his feet before he untangled his fingers from Mark’s. “Five minutes,” he told Mark. “Then I’ll be back, and we’ll have a tea break.”

Mark sighed softly and gave a nod. “Okay. I’ll be fine.”

Maggie followed Jack into the kitchen, watching him as he set about preparing tea with the maximum amount of noise. “You know, you don’t have to clatter the mugs around like that…”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I know. It’s just…” Jack jerked his head toward the living room where Mark was. “It’s for him. Domestic noises, to help him focus on the present, on what’s reality right now. Keeps him out of a bad head space.”

“That is so sweet.” Maggie lifted herself onto the counter as Jack dropped a tea bag in each mug. “ _You’re_ so sweet, Jack. Watching you with him, you’re so kind and patient.”

Jack shrugged a shoulder as the kettle heated up. “It’s what he needs. He’s my best friend. I couldn’t do anything else.”

“Most people, even most best friends, aren’t so thoughtful and selfless,” Maggie countered. “You’re really incredible, Jack. Thank you for trusting me enough to invite me over.”

“Who else would I have asked?” Jack asked, turning to meet Maggie’s eyes. He didn’t _know_ any other stylists, aside from the other ladies at the salon Maggie worked at, and really, why would he ask one of them over his own stylist? Maggie had been hearing about Mark ever since Jack first dyed his hair green. She was the logical choice. “You’re doing a great job with Mark. I really thought he’d freak out a lot worse than this.”

“It’s the least I can do for you,” Maggie said with a shrug of her own. “And he’s not really all that different from some of my other shut-ins. Maybe not as physically frail, but still fragile.”

“Well...thank you.” Jack only looked away when the kettle clicked off. He poured the water into the mugs and offered one to Maggie. “I appreciate it.”

Maggie’s fingers brushed against Jack’s as she accepted the tea with a warm smile. “Thank _you_.”

It was easy to make Mark’s tea. Jack knew exactly how Mark liked it by now. He carried their mugs back to the living room, with Maggie trailing behind, and resumed his seat on the floor in front of Mark. “Here you go!”

“You’re a fucking treasure, did I ever tell you that?” Mark’s face softened as he took the mug from Jack, breathing in the steamy scent.

“I think treasure is a new one,” Jack said, settling back down cross-legged. He took a sip of his own tea and grinned up at Mark. “Don’t let your revolutionary ancestors hear you say that over being brought a mug of tea, you silly American. Unless you don’t actually have revolutionary ancestors. Americans are _weird_.”

“I’ll have to use it more often.” Mark teased before scoffing quietly into his sip of tea. He shook his head. “Seeing as my mom’s from Korea and dad’s ancestors were probably just immigrants, nah, I’d say I don’t have any ‘revolutionary ancestors’. If anything, the Korean ones would be happy I’ve converted and the German ones are still too busy losing their shit over my inability to drink alcohol.

“So, who’s gonna sweep up all my dead hair?”

Jack was watching Mark carefully, so relieved to see Mark relaxing over the cup. He had hoped the tea would help, but watching it in action was best. “Eh, don’t worry about it. I’ll bring out the hoover after Maggie goes home. It’s mostly contained, and this room could...probably use a hoovering anyway…”

Maggie giggled into her tea. “So, how _does_ that work with two bachelors? All the cleaning and stuff? Obviously, Mark can cook, but...who scrubs the toilet?”

“What? We’re supposed to _scrub_ the _toilet?_ ** _Holy shit!_** Jack, did you know that??” Mark gasped softly, palm slapping against his cheek as he turned an appalled expression toward Jack.

“My sister told me to put a little bleach tablet thingy in the back of the tank. Isn’t that enough?” Jack’s eyes went wide above his mug, mirroring Mark’s mock horror right back at him. “Do we actually have to _scrub_ it?”

“Oh my god,” Maggie laughed. “ _Please_ tell me you’re just joking with me! I _used_ your toilet!”

Jack slowly looked away from Mark, fidgeting with the handle of his mug as he glanced up at Maggie. “Um...about that…”

“ _Oh my god!_ ”

“Yup, we know better!” Jack grinned. “Don’t worry, we even cleaned it special for having a guest over. _And_ the sink. And we washed the towels too!” Jack elbowed Mark gently in the shins, turning his grin back up to his housemate as Maggie cracked up. “We’re pretty not bad at this being responsible adults thing! Our mums would be so proud…” Mark chuckled under his breath, dropping the act when Jack did.

“So you scrubbed the toilet,” Maggie said, shaking her head. “Which one?”

Jack pointed at Mark. “I hoovered and did the laundry. We don’t divide up the chores or anything like that. It’s just...whoever notices and doesn’t pretend to ignore it first gets stuck with it. Seems to work pretty well for us.” Jack didn’t do the dishes more than once a fortnight, but Mark cleaned them more often. On the other hand, Jack hoovered as a form of stress relief, so Mark never had to worry about crumbs on the floor (though sometimes Jack swore Mark dropped things on purpose just to be a little shithead). Everything else ended up fairly evenly split up.

“Still gotta pick up all your dirty mugs though,” Mark pointed out, bumping Jack’s hip with his toes..

“Yeah, well, I’d do it _eventually_ if you didn’t. What’s the point of having so many mugs if you don’t use them all?” Jack caught Mark’s foot when he was nudged, giving it a light squeeze and pat before letting go. Contact, any contact, was something to be cherished and celebrated.

“Jack, we _literally_ almost ran out that one time,” Mark reminded; wiggling his toes in Jack’s brief grip.

“Literally _almost_ ,” Jack said, holding up a finger. “Almost means we didn’t _actually_ run out. Which means I was doing them the right amount of time!”

Mark sipped at his tea and shrugged. “Anyway, I used to scrub toilets at home. Had to keep it up when I got my own place. Chica wasn’t gonna do it for me. I’m used to cleaning up after myself. But yeah, Jack _always_ vacuums- sorry, sorry, I mean _hoovers._ ” He snorted in amusement. “He’s got like a suction fetish or something, I dunno. It’s almost concerning.”

Mark’s laugh had Jack’s full attention return to him, and Jack beamed up at the other man. From verging on panic to laughing in about ten minutes was a new record. “It’s not a _fetish_ ,” Jack protested. “I just like the shshkchch of stuff getting sucked up the hose. Really satisfying, you know?”

“Mmhmm.” Maggie nodded her agreement. “It adds another sense to the cleanliness. You not only _see_ that it’s clean, but you can hear it too.”

“ _Exactly!_ See, Mark? It’s not weird! Maggie agrees with me!” Jack stuck out his tongue at Mark, getting a laugh from the stylist.

Mark rolled his eyes at the both of them from behind a gulp of tea. “Irish people. Always a mystery.” He did peek around his mug to stick out his tongue right back.

“Well, I have to admit, this is certainly the cleanest house without a woman that I’ve been in. You two do seem to have a handle on things.”

Jack shrugged. “Like Mark said, we’re both used to cleaning up after ourselves. We’re not _complete_ slobs.”

“‘Complete’ being the key word there ‘cause I know for a fact Jack only cleaned his room up today since he knew you were coming. Usually there’s clothes everywhere. And I track dirt and mud in the house. _Constantly._ Gives Jack an excuse to _hoover_ but he throws a little hissy fit every time it happens anyway.”

“Oh god,” Maggie repeated, shaking her head. “ _Men._ ”

“Eh.” Jack shrugged, lifting his mug to his lips. “We work well together.”

“I can see that!” Maggie laughed again, giving a shake of her head that made her ponytail bounce. “Well, to be fair, women aren’t exactly neat all the time either. My bedroom’s pretty much a disaster zone too. Clothes everywhere.” She winked at Jack, who grinned into his tea.

“Clothes aren’t _dirty_ , anyway,” Jack said. “They’re just messy. Clutter is different. It’s okay.”

Mark rolled his eyes again. _“Men.”_ He shook his head. “Dirt and grime are gross, yeah. But clutter is _dangerous._ How many times have we _both_ almost tripped and busted our asses on things left just lying around? I’ve _seen_ you slip on a shirt, Jack. You nearly rammed your head through a wall. Then who’d make us tea, huh? I’m _American,_ Jack, it’s blasphemous for me to try.”

Jack stuck out his tongue at Mark again. “That was _one time_!” He shook his head, finishing off his tea and holding out a hand for Mark’s mug. “I promise, I won’t kill myself with clothes and leave you to make your own tea. _Promise_.”

“ _One time_ is enough.” But there was a hidden smile in Mark’s lips as he passed off his empty mug. “I’ll hold you to that, Sean McLoughlin.”

Jack set their mugs aside and glanced over at Maggie before turning back to Mark. “You ready to try again?”

“I’m good whenever you boys are!” Maggie set her own tea aside and stood up, reaching for the scissors.

Mark uncurled as he hugged Chica Junior again. He sat up straight and let out a breath before giving a firm nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s finish this.”

Jack reached up for Mark’s hand again as Maggie picked up the spray bottle to re-wet Mark’s hair. After a few squirts of water, she ran the comb through his fringe and began snipping away. Jack squeezed Mark’s fingers. “So, where did we leave off? We were going to start looking into building you a computer tomorrow. One with an Irish power supply so you don’t need a converter…”

The rest of the haircut passed without incident, to Jack’s relief. The tea seemed to have bolstered Mark’s self-control, and he didn’t sink too far into his darkness before Maggie was stepping back. “All done! Don’t you look handsome again!”

There was no red left in Mark’s hair. Jack cocked his head to the side as he looked up at Mark. “You look younger. Like early 2015-you. Not shark-fin hair you. Not _quite_ baby Marki...fart.” _Crap._ Nearly said it. But nearly wasn’t actually, and Jack squeezed Mark’s fingers in apology.

Mark sagged in the chair with a belly-deep sigh. He squeezed at Jack’s hand and sat up again. “My head feels lighter. Holy crap.” Mark’s face lit up a bit. “Hey now, I looked handsome before!”

Running his fingers through his damp hair, Mark sighed again in a way that almost sounded like a giggle. “R.I.P. that damn hair, may it never come back. I can deal without dye for a while though.” He shook up the front, combed it back and quirked a brow down at Jack. “So what you’re saying is, I’m classic sexy again?”

“Definitely classic Markiplier. Your fans are going to _love_ it.”

Maggie unwrapped the towel from Mark’s shoulders and used the end to dust clippings off his shirt. “Stand up carefully, and I’ll brush you down so you don’t go traipsing hair all over your house.”

Mark stood up carefully, holding Chica Junior. He shook himself off, sending red and black hair flying. “Aw, but then Jack would have _so much_ to vacuum! You’re gonna break his heart here.”

Jack stood up after Mark did, coughing and laughing as a clump of hair hit him in the face as Mark shook. “Ack, watch what you’re doing!”

“But Jack, you always said you _loved_ my hair.” Mark’s expression was borderline _cheeky_. Jack loved it.

“You would be amazed at where hair can end up,” Maggie said, twisting the towel so she could swipe at Mark’s shirt and jeans with a damp part of it, to better twitch the hair off the fabric. “Even doing this, he’ll still get to hoover the whole house.”

“You should take a selfie tonight,” Jack said. “Just to show them what difference a haircut makes. Man, we thought you looked good when you got out of hospital, but this, this goes above and beyond that!”

“I think I could manage that. Maybe we’ll get one together. Y’know, since you just got your hair done too.”

“Stand still, Jack, you’re all hairy too.” Maggie moved to swipe at Jack next, brushing the towel over his face and making him giggle.

Mark reached out to brush a few strands off Jack’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t judge him, he just wants to be Bigfoot for Halloween. He’s getting his costume ready.”

“Okay, boys, I think that’s us all done!” Maggie stepped back with a smile. “I’ll pack up, and then I can leave you two to the rest of your evening.”

This time, Mark’s genuine smile was actually aimed at Maggie. “Thanks again for coming. You were great. I’ll be sure to give you _lots_ of credit in my selfie.”

“What time is it?” Jack pulled out his phone, making a little face. “Uh, I can walk you to the bus stop, Maggie? It’s getting dark.”

Maggie grinned brightly at Jack. “I’d appreciate the company. Oh! Here, let me give you…” She pulled a business card out of her bag and a pen, scratching a phone number on the back. “There, that’s my personal number, if you need to schedule another cut for Mark. Or, you know, anything else you may need.”

Jack looked at the number when he took the card and nodded. “Okay, cool. Thanks, Maggie! We’ll probably call you again if Mark stays here long enough.”

“Yeah. Totally. You guys should get going before it gets any later.”

Jack grinned as he tucked the card away, and Maggie finished zipping up her bag. “Ready?”

“Yep! It was great to meet you, Mark! Thanks for dinner. It was delish!” Maggie curled her arm around Jack’s again and picked up her bag.

Mark waved one hand, the other still wrapped around Chica Junior. “Nice meeting you too. Think nothing of it. Buh-bye.”

“I’ll be back soon,” Jack told Mark, glancing at Maggie’s arm around his and then shrugging it off internally. “I’ll help clean up dinner when I get back. Lock the door behind us?” He led Maggie to the front door, picking up his keys as he went.

Mark nodded. “Be careful. Don’t fall in a ditch or get attacked by wild badgers or anything.”

The sun was setting as they set off down the road, and a touch of chill was creeping back into the air. It was late June, but that didn’t mean it was _warm_. It was...pleasant. It wasn’t rainy. It was very pleasant.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve told you today, but you really are so sweet for taking care of Mark like that.” Maggie was leaning against Jack’s side as they walked, not much, but enough for him to feel her curls against his arm. “After everything he’s been through…”

“He can’t go home,” Jack said. “Because he’s still hurt.” It was better to explain Mark’s stay in Ireland that way than to explain he had pneumonia, but not a type that was easily contagious. It was only his weakened lungs and immune system from staying in that horrible room for three months that kept Mark from bouncing back, and as long as his lungs were weak, he was banned from flying and discouraged from boats. “I’d be an absolute heel if I kicked him to the curb or forced him to stay in the hospital.”

“Yeah, but you go above and beyond for him. The care and attention you give him, how you let him hold your hand and gave him that toy...if that YouTube thing doesn’t work out for you, you’d make a great teacher of little kids. Or a father.” She glanced over at him, smiling faintly.

Jack laughed. “Oh please, what would I possibly teach? How to be loud and messy?”

“Sounds like preschool to me!” Maggie shook her head, her curls bouncing against Jack’s arm. “No, you can teach the _important_ stuff. Kindness and respect, and tolerance. You’re good with that, Jack.”

“I’m not so good at keeping control of my tongue,” Jack said with a shake of his head. “I’d have parents calling for my head with how many times I said fuck or shite in front of their little potatoes.”

“Oi!” Maggie elbowed Jack lightly. “Don’t you go perpetuating the stereotype now! You’re hanging out too much with Americans!”

“I’ve given up trying to discourage it,” Jack sighed. “I’m the Irish potato online. The green Pewdiepie.”

“Pewdiepie? What’s that?”

“Who, it’s Felix, I’ve told you about Felix, right? Pewdiepie’s his online name.”

“Is he another big celebrity like you?”

“I’d hardly call myself a _celebrity_!” Jack protested. “But...heh. Big is an understatement? Felix is the single most subscribed to YouTuber in the _world_. He’s got fifty _million_ subscribers.”

“How many do you have?”  


“Fifteen million.”

“Oh.” Maggie frowned thoughtfully. “So I guess you have a ways to go? Fifteen million is still a lot though, right?”

“Fifteen million is _huge_ ,” Jack said. “It’s fifteen _million_ individuals! And they all decided they liked me!”

“That’s not hard.” Maggie squeezed Jack’s arm as they came to the bus stop. “ _I_ like you.”

“I hope you do!” Jack laughed. “I like you too, Maggie. Thanks for tonight.”

“Oh no, Jack.” Maggie turned in front of Jack, reaching up with her free hand to touch Jack’s cheek. “Thank _you._ ”

Maggie’s lips were on Jack’s before he even realized what was happening. Kissing him. She was kissing him. Maggie was _kissing him_!

Suddenly, the entire night made a lot more sense...and Jack felt like the world’s biggest idiot.

Maggie took a step back as the bus pulled up, smirking over at Jack. He had to be gaping. “You’ve got my number,” she said as she headed for the open door. “Call me if you need, or want, _anything…_ ”

Oh sweet Jesus. Jack belatedly lifted a hand in a wave as the bus pulled away, standing at the bus stop for longer than he needed to. _Jesus._ What the _hell_ was that all about? He turned as if on autopilot, heading back to Mark. Heading _home._ Jesus.

Jack was still in a daze as he unlocked the door and stepped inside. “Mark? I’m back!” He called out immediately for his housemate, to let Mark know it was just him and not an intruder. It took three tries to successfully lock the door behind him, and then Jack dropped his keys in the bowl by the door as he wandered into the house. His hand fell to his bracelets, and he fidgeted with them nervously. Would Mark realize what had happened? No, of course not. It was just...just a _kiss_. Barely even a peck! It wasn’t like Maggie had smeared lipstick across his face and...Jesus. His face. His face was going to be _bright_ red. Jesus.

“In the kitchen!” Mark called back _._ “You didn’t get attacked by those badgers, did you? If you did I’ll have to track’em down and kick their fuzzy asses!”

Jack wandered into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway to smile at Mark at the sink. He looked so much like his old self, wearing actual clothes (and not just sweatpants and hoodies), with his hair trimmed up and the pink collar around Chica Junior and not around his own neck. Mark was even _humming_ , and Jack couldn’t help but relax a little: this was all good. All _great_. Thomas wasn’t going to get a kick in the gut to see Mark as a wreck, because Mark wasn’t a wreck anymore. It was okay that Maggie kissed him ( _good lord Maggie KISSED him_ ) because it was the culmination of a night of success for Mark, and that outweighed everything else.

“Next to swans, badgers are some of the most feared wildlife in Ireland,” Jack informed Mark. “You shouldn’t joke about kicking their asses. They’ll kick right back. Need a hand drying?” He pulled away from the door to find a towel, hoping he wasn’t still too red.

Mark gave a dramatic groan. “Aw, c’mon, Jack! At least have faith that I can kick _something’s_ ass. Besides your own, I mean. Support my growth of confidence!” He rinsed off a bowl and extended it towards Jack. “Yes, towel boy, please come help clean up like you promised.” He turned to shoot Jack a teasing look but then a furrow entered his brow.

“You keep picking scary ferocious creatures! Mark, incredible though you may be, you are not an animal wrangler!” Jack picked up a towel and took the bowl from Mark, beginning to dry it.

“...what happened.” It wasn’t a question.

It was _that_ question. Goddamnit. Jack could _feel_ his face go redder, and he focused on the bowl as if he really needed both eyes on it to keep from dropping it. “Um.”

Oh, _way to go,_ Jackaboy! That was _exactly_ the right answer to throw Mark off the scent and assure him that nothing happened, it was fine, everything was fine.

“...nothing?”

Goddamnit.

Mark’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “Jack. Tell me what’s wrong. You look like you’re either about to throw up or pass out. Did something happen on the walk home? Or the walk over? Did Maggie do something?”

“I’m not...it’s not that bad!” Jack protested. Was it?

“ _What’s_ ‘not that bad’?? Jack, _what happened?_ Why aren’t you telling me?”

It really _wasn’t_ , it was just a kiss, it didn’t mean anything or...god, she had offered _more_ than a kiss, and Jack had to squeeze his eyes shut because...yeah. No. Not thinking about that. Not in front of Mark. Not about Maggie.

“I’m fine, Mark, really, I’m okay. Nothing happened. Nothing you have to kick anyone’s ass over. Or any _thing_ ’s ass.” As if trying to make a badger joke would make this all right. Jack glanced over at Mark’s frown and his insides twisted.

Mark shook his head and took a step closer. “Jack, no you’re not. You’re _not_ okay. Just tell me what’s wrong so I can _help you._ You were _fine_ before you left, so **what happened?** ”

“You’re overthinking it, Mark,” Jack said, trying to calm Mark down.

“Only ‘cause you won’t _tell me._ ” Mark nearly whined.

He looked over at his friend and found a little smile for the other man. “Maggie...kissed me. That’s it. I wasn’t...exactly expecting it, and she just kinda...yeah. It’s _nothing_.” Jack wasn’t hurt or offended or insulted. He was incredibly confused, but all things considered, it was hardly a _horrible_ end to the night, being kissed by a pretty girl. “I’m _fine_.”

Mark blinked. “She… she _kissed_ you?”

“Yeah, she just...I dunno. We were talking about YouTube and waiting for the bus and she just…” Jack gestured vaguely toward his face and sighed. “And then she got on the bus and I came home. End of super exciting story.”

Mark stared at Jack like he had grown two spare heads. “...right. Right, okay. Okay… if you say so. Whatever then.”

Aaaand Jack shouldn’t have said anything. He shouldn’t have said anything because now Mark was upset and he wasn’t humming and he didn’t look happy. Jack sighed again, leaning over to bump his elbow against Mark’s. “Hey. I told you it wasn’t badgers. You don’t need to worry about avenging my honor or anything like that.” Why wasn’t Mark happy anymore?

Mark just grunted in response, scrubbing viciously at the pots in the sink.

Jack kept watching Mark as he dried the dishes handed to him coldly. Silently. Mark was glaring as he washed, his eyes hard. For the first time in...in _forever_ , actually, Jack actually felt uncomfortable beside Mark. Even pulling him out of that tarp, or holding him through a panic attack, Jack had never actually felt _uncomfortable._ Even meeting Mark for the first time, Jack just felt so at ease with the other man. This was...this was awkward. _Why?_ There was something about Maggie kissing him that really set Mark off. But _why_?

Unless...unless it was _how_ she kissed him? Unexpected, unasked for...was Mark feeling like Jack had been assaulted in a very minor version of what he had gone through? Jack bit his lip as he dried a spoon. “Mark?” he tried again, hesitant and hating it. “Mark, are you...I’m not...it didn’t hurt me, Mark. In any way. I was startled, but not…”

“Don’t want to talk about it.” Mark dropped the words like a lead weight. His face was blank as he pushed past Jack and picked up Chica Junior. “I’m pretty tired. Think I’ll just go to bed; call it an early night. Don’t worry about joining me right away. I’ll be fine.”

_Give Mark choices…_

Jack opened his mouth to continue talking, but his therapist’s voice was ringing in his head.

_And respect them._

He shut his mouth. Letting Mark go with this... _whatever_ it was festering between them was a bad choice. A _very_ bad choice. Years of experience managing a community of millions let Jack know that the longer rot flourished, the harder it was to oust. But Mark was _choosing_ to walk away, _choosing_ to let the badness linger.

Jack grit his teeth, fighting very hard not to protest, to call Mark back and demand he tell him what was actually wrong. “Oh...okay,” he finally managed to say. “I’ll...finish up here and...see you tomorrow?” If Mark didn’t want Jack to join him...Jack would make sure the tea was ready for when Mark woke up with a nightmare. Unless he didn’t, unless he had managed to push through those and would no longer be plagued by them.

(Jack selfishly hoped that wasn’t the case, and then promptly hated himself for the thought.)

“Good night…”

Jack let Mark go, remaining where he was, standing by the counter with a towel in his hand, just watching Mark leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	26. Night 151: Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea solves everything.

Jack had put away the dishes once they were dry, then dug the hoover out of the closet to clean up the living room. It didn’t give him the same satisfaction it usually did, sucking up all of the clippings of the last traces of Mark’s red hair. Maybe because hair didn’t make noise against the hose. Or maybe because Mark was _so friggin’ angry_ , and Jack had no idea why.

Mark’s door was firmly shut when Jack went to get ready for bed. He brushed his teeth and washed his face and stared at himself in the mirror. Green hair. Not too much floof yet, that would grow back. Blue eyes. Pink mouth. Jack puckered his lips up and made a fish face. Maggie had kissed that mouth. Mark found out. There was no evidence on his lips.

Jack sighed, letting his head fall forward to bump against the mirror. _Fuck_. Maggie had kissed him and Mark had flipped out. _Why?_ Jack had no idea where things went wrong, and so he had no idea how to fix them.

He was still mulling over the problem as he got changed for bed, throwing his dirty clothes in the general direction of his hamper and pulling on a pair of clean boxers. He wasn’t sleeping with Mark tonight. There was no point in pulling on the sweatpants or t-shirt. Jack didn’t like sleeping so covered up, after all. He wore it for Mark’s comfort, not his own.

Mark’s anger had something to do with the kiss. Jack climbed beneath his duvet and pulled it up to his chin. Was Mark angry that Maggie had kissed Jack? Probably. Why? Was it because Mark wanted to kiss Jack? _Ha._ There was a Septiplier fanfic to make the shippers squeal. Jack closed his eyes.

Then he opened them.

Was it because Mark wanted to kiss _Maggie_?

Jack rolled that thought over in his head, staring up at the ceiling. Maggie was a beautiful woman. Mark was healing. Mark liked beautiful women. He’d dated blondes before. Was Mark attracted to Maggie and...jealous?

That would actually make sense. If Mark was interested in Maggie, but his body was rebelling against even the _thought_ of sex...conflicting desires _could_ piss him off...right? Make him angry in a way he couldn’t articulate? And he didn’t want Jack to talk about it, because it was just another reminder of how much Mark was broken…

Jack rolled onto his side, staring at the wall. It made sense, but it didn’t make things any better. Not for Jack, at least. If Mark was interested in Maggie...well, Jack wouldn’t stand in his way. He could tell Mark tomorrow that he wasn’t interested in her, that the kiss would never go anywhere...but then that left Jack with knowing that _Mark_ wanted to kiss Maggie.

Jack didn’t like that thought. Mark was _his_.

Jack didn’t like that thought either. He knew he was protective of Mark. He knew his affection toward his friend had only grown in the weeks they’d lived together. Mark was entirely dependent on Jack for _everything_. He could function on his own within the house, but Jack had to go out and get food and get Mark to the doctor and talk him out of a bad headspace. Mark was relying on Jack, and Jack _liked_ it, in that sick, twisted part of his brain that felt good about Markiplier _needing_ him. It grew more possessive every day, like some twisted Gollum creature hunched around Mark and hissing at anyone who tried to take Mark away from him. Their therapists had some concerns about Mark growing _too_ dependent on Jack...but really, they needed to worry about Jack’s own codependency. Jack didn’t want to share Mark with _anyone_ , and certainly not some blonde floozy who didn’t know how to keep her lips to herself…

That was another bad thought. Maggie was perfectly nice and perfectly sweet and Jack really did like her as a person. She was good to Mark too, treating him gently without putting on kid gloves around him. She could do him some good. Jack should be happy Mark was interested. He _should_ be.

He wasn’t.

Jack stared at the wall, his dark thoughts circling, chasing each other endlessly, keeping sleep at bay. There was no respite, no relief from the angry thorns of jealousy that speared him with every thought of Mark and Maggie together, but _for fuck’s sake_ , Maggie kissed _him_ , not _Mark_ , it wasn’t even real!

“Jaaaack…..”

Jack was not expecting his door to swing open, or a dark head to poke in. Jack frowned, lifting his head off his pillow. “...Mark?” What time was it? Jack reached over for his phone. Just past two in the morning? Had Mark had a nightmare? Jack looked back at his housemate in alarm. Had Mark had a nightmare and Jack _hadn’t heard it_? But no...no, Jack hadn’t managed to fall asleep at all, so he definitely would have heard Mark screaming…

“Is everything okay?”

“I… yeah. Kinda? I guess. I just… I was wondering if you could maybe… I….” Mark rubbed at the back of his neck, his face guilty even in the shadows of the night. “...could you make tea? Please?”

Tea. Of course. Why hadn’t Jack thought about that? A good cuppa was exactly what they both needed. Maybe it would help Jack sleep too. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

He sat up fully, flipping the duvet back...and hesitated. He was only wearing boxers. Not that he had any problem with Mark seeing him in just his underwear: Mark had seen him like this before, in L.A., when they went swimming, or lounged around the house without their jeans on. Jack just wasn’t sure if _Mark_ would have a problem seeing him like this now. “I’ll, uh...let me just put some pants on?”

Mark’s face went pale, and he turned away quickly from the sight of Jack nearly naked. “Uh, y-yeah, yeah sure, go ahead, sorry-”

Jack had to go to his dresser to fish out his usual sweats and t-shirt, since he put his clothes away for Maggie’s visit. _See, Mark, there’s a reason to keep clothes everywhere!_ He pulled them on without glancing toward Mark at the door, not wanting to trigger anything. Only after he was dressed did he turn to look at Mark again. “It’ll just be a few minutes. I can bring it to you.”

Mark turned back slowly, hesitantly, as if afraid Jack were about to jump him. “O… okay. Thanks. Sorry if I uh… if I woke you or anything. Seems like I’m just too stupid to figure out the whole tea thing.” The joke fell a little flat, but Mark was at least _trying_.

“...seriously, Mark? It's not _that_ …” Jack shook his head, a little fond smile on his face. “I'll show you how to make it tomorrow, you silly American. For now just...just wait here, okay?” Jack tried for a bigger smile, hoped it didn't look too fake. “You didn't wake me. I...couldn't sleep.” Had Mark woken from a nightmare or been unable to fall asleep in the first place? Jack wasn't sure. He might be able to ask later.

Mark ducked his head, looking almost as submissive and withdrawn as he used to be, at the hospital. “Okay….”

For now, tea. Jack padded to the kitchen and stopped, looking at the mess Mark had made. “...dear lord, maybe Americans _can't_ make tea,” he muttered, torn between a facepalm and a giggle. He set the kettle to boil, dropped some teabags in a pair of mugs, and swept the worst of the spilled tea into his hand and threw it out. After the kettle clicked off, Jack poured the water and added cream and sugar. He gave both mugs a stir, scooped out the bags, and returned to his bedroom with the hot drinks.

At first glance, Jack thought Mark must have gone back to his own room, but then he saw the lump in his bed. Mark had settled face-first into Jack's pillow, snuggling into his duvet, and if that wasn't just the most adorable thing…

Jack knew it wasn't _really_ the most adorable thing in the world, but at the moment, it was pretty damn high. The roiling confusion in his stomach calmed at the sight, and Jack approached the bed to set both mugs on the table. “Did you fall asleep on me?” he asked softly, wondering if he should push Mark over and join him or just go finish the night in Mark's bed. “Mark?”

Mark mumbled into Jack’s pillow, then slowly forced his head to the side to look up at Jack through crooked glasses and tired eyes. “No. Sorry. I can move…”

“Budge over,” Jack said, reaching over to fix the angle of Mark's glasses. There was a table on the other side of his bed too. Mark could leave his glasses there if he was going to fall asleep. “Let me back under the warm blankets.” They'd shared a bed at night before. Sitting up together with their tea was no worse.

Jack slid into the bed after Mark made room, picking up a mug adorned with flowers and offering it to the other man.

“Thanks….” Mark pushed himself up onto his elbows, but he stayed on his stomach as he accepted the tea and sipped at it.

“So...Did you have a nightmare?” Jack asked, not even bothering with subtlety. “Want to talk about it?” He picked up his own mug, cradling it in both hands and blowing lightly at the steam before taking a sip. He kept his eyes on his drink, not on his bedmate.

“I… didn’t have a nightmare…. I actually couldn’t sleep either…. I thought maybe the tea would help, but… yeah, I guess zero hours of sleep don’t make me any more adept at simple tasks, so…” Mark took a quiet sip from the mug. “...did _you_ have a nightmare?”

Jack shook his head at Mark’s question, belatedly realizing Mark wouldn’t see from his position. “No.” _Not this time._ “Couldn’t sleep at all either.” Jack bit the rim of his mug, then glanced down at Mark. “Guess I’d gotten used to having you on the other side of the pillow wall.”

No, that wasn’t the reason. Not the _real_ reason. Jack looked back at his tea. Yeah, he was accustomed to Mark being _right there_ , and yeah, he slept better with someone else in his bed, but that wasn’t why he hadn’t managed to fall asleep. Mark’s earlier irritation and general pissiness had been keeping Jack from finding any rest. He seemed calmer now. _Jack_ was calmer. Mark just seemed tired instead of angry, and Jack was okay with that. As long as Mark actually _was_ just tired and not angry. Mark wasn’t usually one to bottle up his emotions, but he had gotten a lot of practice at shutting himself down.

Mark stared at his tea, not even stealing a glance at Jack. “Sorry, I didn’t…. When I said that, before, I wasn’t trying to say I didn’t want you with me tonight. I just…thought I’d give you time, since it was still early.”

Jack glanced over at Mark again. “...are you feeling better? From...before bed?”

“I’m not… I’m not _mad,_ anymore…. Or even all that irritated, I guess. Just… tired...I wouldn’t call it feeling _better,_ but… yeah. I’m okay now. Sorry about earlier. I was a real asshole.”

“Yeah, you kinda were.” Jack’s heart twisted as he agreed with Mark, part of his brain screaming at him to deny it, to assure Mark that it was okay, he was fine with it, but… but it _wasn’t_ okay. It was, but it wasn’t. He sighed, closing his eyes. “Mark, I’m not...it’s weird for me too, okay? I didn’t ask her to kiss me, and I didn’t...I didn’t want to tell you, because I figured it wouldn’t go over well. And...yeah. We saw that. It’s just...I kinda get it. I mean, I still don’t have the faintest fucking idea why you...it was different. It was a weird break in our routine, and for two months, you haven’t really _had_ a break in your routine.” _Or for five months._ “Aside from the move. It was a _ton_ of different, all at once, and...I dunno. I don’t want to assume I have any idea what went wrong, if it was because she was a stranger intruding in our home, or because you were into her,” Mark wheezed and coughed at that, too close to reality? “or if it was just too much overstimulation too soon… I just, I get that you weren’t being a dick just to be a dick. And hey.” Jack looked down at Mark with a weak little smile. “I’ve been your friend for years, right? If I got offended every time you were a bit of an asshole…”

Well, if he did, he wouldn’t be here right now. Mark was _always_ stumbling into asshole territory. Most of the time, it was completely unintentional and all his friends knew it. Sometimes, it was just Mark getting snippy or childish and throwing a tantrum. But Mark always apologized, and he seldom went the same asshole route more than once. Jack had no doubts, for example, that if he ever told Mark he was genuinely upset with the Irish jabs, Mark would never make one again. Jack _understood_ Mark’s assholery, and he accepted it as just part of who Mark was. It was almost never truly viciously meant, and _never_ aimed at him with any genuine sincerity. Mark was a good man, but he was still just a man, just a human. He could be a dick. So could Jack. They weren’t angels, no matter what their communities thought.

“For what it’s worth, there’s absolutely nothing between me and Maggie,” Jack said. “It’s not like she’s a secret girlfriend I never told you about or anything like that. I didn’t even realize she was interested until she kissed me, and then I felt like a major idiot for not noticing sooner.”

Mark shook his head. “I’m not… fuck, Jack, I’m _not_ into Maggie. At all. You realize she was flirting with you _all night,_ right?? When you said she kissed you, I was… I…”

“I realized she was flirting with me all night _after_ she kissed me,” Jack said into his mug, more than a little pink-cheeked. “Like I said, I’m kinda a stoop. I just thought she was being friendly before…”

Mark shifted his grip on his mug to one hand so he could scratch through his trimmed hair. “You know when you’ve got all these _damn emotions_ and you have _no idea_ what to call them or why they’re there, but they just keep buzzing away in your head until it’s driving you crazy?? Wait, that probably sounds crazy. _I_ probably sound crazy. Do you think I’m crazy??” Mark at last looked over to Jack, exhausted and looking for _anything_.

Jack looked down at Mark and sighed, then reached out to touch Mark’s forearm lightly. “Mark Fischbach, I think you are absolutely raving insane. But again, I’ve been your friend for years. That’s nothing new.” He squeezed Mark’s arm lightly and offered him a smile. “You’re not _crazy_ , Mark. You’re tired and overwhelmed, and _yes_ , too many emotions buzzing around is perfectly normal. It doesn’t even have to have anything to do with what you went through. I get days where I feel too much. It’s just...normal.” Jack shrugged, not sure how else to explain it.

Mark sucked the rim of the mug in his mouth, biting lightly against the ceramic as he thought. Eventually, he pushed himself up a little further, his voice soft. “...back then, before I was… y’know. I… I had a lot of opportunities to let out my emotions. I dunno if the title still stands but I mean, I was once known as one of the most emotional people on Youtube….Maybe it wasn’t always _healthy,_ but it was still an outlet. And then… when I got stuck in….” Mark’s brow furrowed but he pressed on. “...it exhausted me. _All_ of me. There was no holding back any of it; any of my feelings or emotions. Even when I realized that’s what they wanted, I couldn’t. They wouldn’t let me. Until I didn’t have anything left, and I just started shutting down. Going numb. Sometimes...”

Mark ducked closer to his mug, his eyes haunted. “...then I came back. And things were different. They weren’t tearing my emotions from me anymore. I kept teetering between these explosive episodes and these times where I’d just close myself off and refuse to feel _anything._ I had to remember what was _okay._ I had to remember expectations, and how _normal fucking people that don’t_ ** _kidnap and torture others_** could react. How… how you would react….”

Mark sunk down a little more, but he glanced over at Jack. “And we moved. And I was getting better. I _am_ getting better. I was happy again. And I had breakdowns where I cried. And it was good. It was controlled. But I never… never really… got **_angry._** I’m such an emotional fucking person, Jack. I’ll be the first to own up to it, I will. But I haven’t… I haven’t been letting it out as much as I should, they got me into the habit of letting too much go, and I got scared, and so I started bottling it up at the hospital and when we moved because it was just so much sometimes. And I’ve just been _so angry,_ Jack. So angry at them, at what they’ve done, at how they hurt so many more people than just me and what they put _you_ through because of some stupid ship name! But I was scared, and I was also happy, and pushing through. It was okay. It was okay, until things changed and the emotions all built up too fast and I… and I had to run away because I didn’t want to hurt you. But it doesn’t matter, because I still did, and I am so… _so_ sorry, Jack. You didn’t deserve that….”

Mark’s voice cracked and his face scrunched up. He sniffled into his tea, trying to curl up and whispering apologies under his breath.

Jack set his mug aside, then reached over and gently took Mark’s from him, depositing it safely on the nightstand. He shifted, wiggling down the bed until he was lying beside Mark, then reached out and touched him again. “Mark?” he asked, fingers just barely brushing Mark’s shoulder. “Mark, can I please hug you?” He wanted to. He needed to. _Mark_ needed him to.

Mark scrubbed his tears across his face, flinching at Jack’s touch but not pulling away. He sobbed, his arms folding beneath his weight, barely managing a shaky nod before he was hiding his face in his forearms.

Jack didn’t move until Mark nodded, and after Mark nodded, Jack narrated his actions. “I’m gonna put my arm around your back, Mark. I’m right here. It’s okay.” Jack slowly folded an arm around Mark, half-tugging the other man, half-pulling himself closer, trying to nudge Mark to fold against his chest. “It’s okay to be upset.”

Mark tensed, but he inched a little closer to Jack as Jack coaxed him. He snuggled up against Jack’s chest, arms between them, curled up into a ball as best he could.

 _Don’t touch his hair. Don’t touch too low._ It was hard to remember all of the rules, but Jack had months of practice with Mark. He was slow and gentle, spreading his hand across Mark’s broad back. “I think we’ve been going about this all wrong, Mark. You’re right, you _are_ emotional. It’s part of who you are. And we’ve been trying to keep you all even-keeled, but that’s never been you. No wonder everything’s building up inside.” Mark had always been rocketing from one extreme to another, rarely calm and tranquil for long. He hadn’t had _any_ form of emotional vent lately, aside from working in the garden, which probably wasn’t rage-inducing, or playing video games...and Jack had been careful with what selections he offered to Mark to keep from triggering him. Maybe that was wrong. Maybe Mark _needed_ some senseless virtual violence.

“This is gonna be something we’ll need to work on. We’ll _both_ need to work on. Finding ways to help you vent before you implode like this.” Jack closed his eyes, his sigh ruffling Mark’s floof. “But for now...it’s okay to let it out in tears. It’s okay. I’m here.”

“I-I’m so scared of lashing out, Jack. That’s all I kn-knew for so long. I don’t want to hurt anybody… n-not again… not _you_ ….”

“I’m not,” Jack said quietly, letting his fingers rub from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, the most he dared to touch with his arms wrapped around Mark’s shaking body. “Mark, I’m _not_ scared of you lashing out at me. I don’t think you would. I don’t think you _could_.” Mark was warm and solid in Jack’s arms, and Jack wanted to hug him tight and bury his face in that freshly cut hair and just _hold_ him, so much more than he was allowed to now.

“You stopped yourself in the kitchen, right? And you were letting me know you were upset. Mark, you don’t go from zero to sixty with nothing inbetween. You give off signs. You _do_. Just like you do when you’re falling into a bad headspace. And I can pull you out of that. If you’re getting aggressive...I can back off. I’m not quite as ragey as you. I know when to stop. Most of the time.” Jack took a deep breath, and then another when he realized Mark was matching his breathing.

Mark sobbed again and sniffled. “S-sorry, I’m… I’m getting snot all over your sh-shirt….” he whispered.

Jack didn’t mind snot on his shirt, because he only ever wore this shirt to sleep with Mark anyway. If Mark wanted to cry all over it, so be it. He just kept up his slow rubbing, back and forth, tracing the six inches he dared to touch over and over again.

Slowly, Jack could feel Mark unclenching in his arms. Mark’s hands tentatively pressed against his chest, and Mark’s breathing grew calmer as he matched Jack’s. “I lo…..” He shook his head a bit. “...I-I’m sorry…. Thank you…. Y-you really think we can figure something out?”

“You have more control than you think, Mark. That first day in the hospital, that’s when you were at your weakest. You’re growing stronger every day. All we need to do is find a way to work out your emotions, and then you’ll never reach that point of blind rage. And that could be...that could be _anything_. We could get you a punching bag, or you could blow up virtual zombies. _Truly_ virtual zombies, in VR, if that might help. Or...or maybe a canoe or something? And you could just paddle around the river or whatever the fuck you do in a boat? I mean, we’re _here_ , right? We might as well take advantage of what’s around us. Or...you used to work out a lot. Maybe we start that up again? Get some weights, go for runs...I could certainly afford to get into better shape. I’ve just always been too lazy to motivate myself. We don’t have any rock climbing places around here, but I’m sure we could figure _something_ out.”

Mark gave an especially loud snuffle and curled his fingers against Jack’s chest. “I-I… I had thought, a few times… m-mainly when I was in the room…. Learning self-defense. I never… n-never was interested, before, because I didn’t like the idea of fighting for real. But… but I didn’t- I _don’t_ want to ever go through s-something like that again. I don’t. I _can’t,_ Jack. If… if we could do that, maybe get me some tapes or something, some exercise equipment….W-we could both get those plus ten biceps….”

He gave a watery chuckle, burying his face in Jack’s neck. “Boating… sounds fun, but I dunno. Y’know I hate the ocean, and like… r-rivers are pretty deep too. Maybe… we could feed the ducks? A-and I’ll protect you from the swans, and the badgers, and…. And I still want to play video games with you, Jack….”

“That settles it, then. Tomorrow, I get my videos recorded as early as possible, and we start getting computer components and a punching bag. And we find some self-defense channels and figure out how to knock a guy out who comes at us. And also life jackets for when the ducks inevitably chase us.”

“With… with more than just our looks, right? I thought you said it was the swans we had to watch out for….” Mark mumbled into Jack’s shoulder.

“Please. We are brawns as well as beauty.”

Mark wasn’t crying so much now though, and Jack smiled, relaxing a little as Mark did. “But this morning...how about this morning, you just take your glasses off and we get some sleep? I don’t think I have enough spare pillows in here for the pillow wall. Most of them are in your room...we could...get them? Or move there?” But Jack’s bed was cozy and warm, and he really didn’t want to let go of Mark just yet. He _missed_ hugging his friend, and being hugged, and this felt really, _really_ nice after so long without.

Mark yawned and shook his head to knock his glasses off against Jack’s chin. He mumbled a “sorry” and tucked himself back against Jack’s shoulder. “Don’t wanna move… comfy.” He huffed and snuggled closer to Jack.

Jack managed to wiggle one arm between them to fish Mark’s glasses out before they rolled on them and broke them during the night, flipping them in the general direction of a nightstand and hoping they landed. At least they were safe. He quickly pulled his arm out, curling it around Mark again, and sighed his own contentment.

Mark gave a shuddery breath. “Don’t let go, Jack……”

Jack could tell Mark was serious, even as he quoted Titanic again. “Keep that up,” he mumbled, “and I’ll get us a goat after all.” Mark was all but asleep from the sound of his voice, and just the fatigue there was lulling Jack asleep. “If you haveta kick me out of bed without the wall,” Jack murmured, snuggling against Mark’s heat, “go for it. Won’t get offended...if I’m too clingy…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	27. Night 158: The Nightmare Remixed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another night, another nightmare, a different head.

_Jack scrubbed his hand through his hair and tugged his cap back on. Time to record. He spun his chair away from the foam padding of his recording room wall, but instead of his desk, he found himself facing a window. Mark was on the other side. Jack frowned. Mark’s side of the room had white padding, or at least padding that used to be white. It was grimy now, stained with blood and sweat and so much more. Mark was standing in the middle, looking around bewildered. His hand crept to his neck, tugging at the collar he wore._

_“Mark!” Jack jumped out of his chair to pound on the window. “Mark, what the hell?”_

_He might as well have been shouting at a wall for all the good it did. Mark didn’t even seem to notice the banging. He was curling in on himself, his posture hunching, arms wrapping over his chest and stomach. Mark was backing up against the filthy padding, tucking himself into a corner._

_“Don’t, Mark, no, get away from there!” Jack pounded the window again, waved his hands toward the lines in the padding that signified the door to the room. “Get to the door, get ready to run!”_

_Mark still couldn’t hear him. He was sinking down now, sitting in the corner, his knees drawn up in front of his chest, hands covering his head. His fingers were threaded through his hair, tugging at the strands. Even from his own side of the room, Jack could see how Mark was shaking._

_“Mark!” There was nothing else on Jack’s side except his chair. He picked it up and tried to hurl it at the window. The first time he ended up staggering off balance as the wheels spun around, but then he managed to slam it against the glass. It bounced off harmlessly, damaging neither the window nor the chair. “_ **_Mark!_ ** _”_

_Jack could only pound helplessly against the window as the door to the other side opened and two men dressed in black from head to toe entered. “Leave him alone! Don’t you fucking touch him!” Jack screamed as they approached Mark, screamed and howled and raged, beating his fists against the glass as they pulled out a camera and a knife, grabbing at Mark._

_The soundproofing of the window went both ways. Jack could see Mark’s mouth moving, see the absolute terror in his face as he struggled against the kidnappers, could see Mark screaming as his pyjamas were cut away, gloved hands grabbing and groping, threading through his hair and pulling tight, tugging at his collar, his arms, his penis. Jack tried to turn away, but every wall was the same one, the same window, and even if he closed his eyes he could still see. Jack sank to his knees, sobbing, his hands pressed against the unyielding glass, trying to let his eyes go unfocused, trying to at least not_ **_look_ ** _if he couldn’t stop himself from_ **_seeing._ **

Unbeknownst to him, Jack was actually tangled in the duvet and Mark’s arms, muttering in his sleep, tears smeared across his face and Mark’s pyjama top. He whined, low in his throat, pushing himself against Mark and whispering the other man’s name.

_They had Mark pressed up against the window now, right in front of Jack, and was the room smaller? It was smaller. He couldn’t get away, couldn’t avoid Mark’s eyes, the pain, the fear. He still couldn’t hear anything but his own sobs, but he reached for Mark anyway, pressing his hands against the glass, curling his fingers as if he could somehow hold Mark and get him away from the men touching him (more than two now, too many to count, just men in black and Mark and Jack…)_

Jack clutched at Mark’s shirt, fingers twitching and tugging at the fabric and whining as he pressed tighter, trying to curl up but hampered by Mark’s body in the way. His breathing was erratic, sometimes too fast, sometimes not even there, as he sobbed and shivered and didn’t wake up.

 _Mark was calling for him, begging for him, saying his name, both his names. Jack pressed his hands over his eyes but he could see through those too, and he could still_ **_hear_ ** _Mark and…_

_...and…_

_He could hear Mark. He could_ **_hear_ ** _him. That was new. That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t...that wasn’t…_

The wall felt softer against Jack’s hands, or did the bed feel harder? Jack jerked abruptly as he woke up, his eyes flying open with a gasp.

Breathe. _Breathe_. Someone (Mark?) was repeating that, and Jack had to...inhale? Exhale. Close his eyes and shudder and _god._ “...Mark…”

“It’s okay, Jack. It’s okay. I’m here. Everything’s gonna be okay, just breathe with me. Focus on my breathing, all right? In and out. Remember? Just like you always tell me. _In and out._ I’ve got you.” Mark’s arms were around him, his chest warm and solid in front of him, his voice rumbling out against Jack’s hair.

Jack tightened his grip on Mark’s shirt, pressing his face against Mark’s neck. He tried to breathe with Mark’s words, tried to focus on what Mark was saying. It was a nightmare, it was just a nightmare, same as so many other nights, just a nightmare, not actually real…

Except there was a collar pressing against his cheek. There was a _collar_ because even though it wasn’t real, it had been based on reality, and _oh god he was clinging to Mark!_ Jack snatched his hands back, abruptly pulling away from Mark, trying to break the contact. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to grab you like that…” _Had_ he grabbed Mark? He’d been holding his shirt and pressed so close their legs were tangling together and now Jack was shivering, sitting up and wiping a hand over his face. He was still fucking _crying_ , goddamnit. “Mark, it’s okay, I’m...I’m okay…” Lies. All lies. Nothing was okay.

Mark propped himself up on one elbow, reaching over the duvet for Jack. “Jack. Jack, _it’s okay._ It’s fine. I’m the one that pulled you. I wanted to try waking you up. Or… at least stop the nightmare. It was all me. You don’t have to apologize. Jack… c’mon. That doesn’t work on you. What makes you think it’ll work any better on me? We know each other too well by now. I _know_ you’re not okay. You… you’re still crying….” Mark was frowning as he moved to grab the nearby tissues and passed them to Jack. He didn’t touch Jack, but he let his hand rest close. Just like how Jack would take care of Mark.

“It wasn’t a…” Jack closed his eyes, slumping further. As if he could deny anything. “It was a happy fluffy dream about rainbows and unicorns,” he mumbled, snagging a handful of tissues to wipe his face and blow his nose.

“Maybe I’d believe that, if those were leprechaun tears of joy on your face.” It was a poor attempt at some kind of humor; just to break the awkwardness filling the air between them. “We both know they’re not.”

Jack crawled back across the bed towards Mark. He didn’t curl up with the other man, but he did lay down again, and he took Mark’s hand. “I’m sorry, I...it’s not usually this…” He gestured vaguely toward his face.

Jack had had nightmares nearly every night since Mark was kidnapped, though the _every_ night thing had really started after he first saw the pictures. They were always similar: Mark in the room, and Jack just watching, unable to stop, unable to help. Sometimes Mark knew he was there, but most of the time he didn’t. The nightmares rarely woke him up. He remembered them in fragments if he made it through the night, dry tears on his face the only indication. When he did wake up in the middle of the night, the nightmares were fresher, but he wasn’t screaming from them. He just laid in bed awake until Mark screamed or morning came, and he could reassure himself that Mark was safe and not being hurt anymore. He had never actually woken up mid-dream like that. Maybe that was why he was still shaking, even as he clutched at Mark’s hand and the tissues, trying to steal glances at the other man without looking too long or too hard, in case it set _Mark_ off.

Mark squeezed at Jack’s hand as soon as he took it. “I told you, don’t apologize. It’s fine. How many times have you come in to see me shaken up and trying to stop more tears, huh? Seeing you upset isn’t going to trigger me, Jack. _They_ were never upset.”

Mark sighed and laced their fingers together. He pressed their palms against each other and stared at Jack warmly even as Jack kept glancing away. “Jack. Look at me. It’s okay. I’m not scared about you looking. _I’m not._ ”

Even with Mark’s reassurances, it still took Jack several tries to actually look at him without looking away. Once he started, he couldn’t stop, his eyes roving over Mark’s face and down to his chest, confirming that Mark was dressed and sleepy but not panicking, not crying, not screaming. He felt his lip tremble and bit it hard to keep himself under control. “I’m not...I’m not worried about triggering you from being upset…” He swiped at his face again with the handful of tissues and looked away. “I just…” _I’m supposed to be the strong one._

Jack didn’t want Mark to see him break down, to see him so distraught he couldn’t function. He didn’t want Mark to see him sobbing and shaking and barely able to breathe, because how could Mark lean on him if he wasn’t able to stand on his own two feet? Jack bit his lip harder, needing to look away again, needing to not see Mark’s gentle brown eyes, not see that compassion. It was too much right now. Just too much.

“Then… what? What is it? Jack??” Mark was frowning again, squeezing Jack’s fingers. “Jack….” Mark laid down fully now, head on the pillow, and he moved his free hand to press lightly against Jack’s tear-stained cheek. “Jack… you can talk to me. You know that, right? I want to support you too.”

Jack closed his eyes, whispering Mark’s name. He didn’t pull away from Mark’s touch, _couldn’t_ pull away. He actually leaned in a little closer, finally releasing his abused lip. “I just...it was just a nightmare, Mark. Just a dream. Nothing real.” Jack had never been with Mark when he was being tortured. He had only watched after the fact, through a screen. “It’s fine, I’m fine. I’ll _be_ fine, in the morning. It’s not like…”

Mark’s full hand rested against Jack’s face. “That doesn’t make it hurt any less. I _know_ you’ll be okay, Jack. It’s always better in the morning. But it’s not morning. And right now you’re not as okay as you want me to think you are. And that’s _fine._ Really.”

It’s not like it was the first one. Or the worst one. Or anything like what Mark dreamt of. It had been fairly short this time, only made worse by hearing Mark’s voice in it, though he hadn’t been screaming. Jack didn’t try to wipe his eyes again, even though he could feel another tear roll over the bridge of his nose.

“...not like I haven’t done this before.”

Mark swiped the tear away with his thumb. “You shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

Jack sniffed, feeling Mark’s hand warm against his face. He wanted to reach up and hold it there, but he didn’t have a free hand. One was full of snotty tissues, and the other was still clinging tightly to Mark’s other hand. He let himself shift a little closer to Mark instead, keeping his eyes closed, leaning toward his friend. Touch was okay. He could handle touch. Touch didn’t trigger him the way it triggered Mark. He had only pulled away because he was afraid he _was_ triggering Mark, with how much he’d been grabbing in his sleep.

“I’m not alone.” Jack let his eyes crack open, then lifted them to finally meet Mark’s, and oh _fuck_ , Mark looked like someone had torn the head off Chica Junior. Jack found a smile, weak and wobbly though it was, and squeezed Mark’s hand. “I haven’t...this is the first nightmare I’ve had since we started sharing a bed. You’ve _been_ helping, Mark.”

Mark squeezed back, his eyes softening. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help sooner. I just… I’m glad I’ve been helping now. That it’s not just you helping me. Like I said, I _want_ to support you too, Jack. It might be harder for me, and maybe you think you don’t need it, but… I want to. So please… talk to me, if you’re upset. I promise I won’t lose any faith in you.”

Jack gave a small shake of his head, careful not to dislodge Mark’s hand. “Mark, your focus needs to be on yourself first, not me.” This was not a new conversation. Whenever Jack failed, whenever Mark caught him crying or saw horror in his eyes, whenever Jack admitted to something like hating that damnable collar Mark wore, Mark always asked Jack to lean on him. Always. Sometimes Jack would open up a little. Sometimes he wouldn’t. But every time, he’d swear it was the only time, or the last time.

It never was.

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I can’t focus on you at all.”

Jack closed his eyes, letting his head fall heavy against the pillow. “...would it actually help anything?”

“I think it would. Anything’s better than nothing, right? And… talking with you always manages to help me, when I can do it. Just like with the therapists. But a _million_ times better. At the very least, we could try… and if it turns out stupid and terrible, I’ll take total blame. And we never have to do it again.” A hint of sadness dripped into Mark’s expression. “...I’m not trying to force you or anything, Jack. You never make me talk. I just… I want you to know the option is there. I’m not the only one who needs choices.”

“Yeah, total responsibility _after_ I’ve triggered you.” Jack curled his arm around his stomach, squeezing his fistful of soggy tissues. His stomach hurt. His head hurt. His _heart_ hurt. “Because they’re always _about_ you, Mark, always about what happened. Or it happening again. And I have to watch. I can’t _not_ watch, can’t cover my eyes, can’t look away, can only watch until they’re done and they just leave you there to die, and I can’t do anything, can’t do a damn thing but _watch_.” His mouth twisted in disgust at the memories, disgust at himself, his own uselessness.

“Jack….” Mark gently stroked Jack’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. He began rubbing soothing circles into the back of Jack’s hand with his other thumb. He wiggled a little, moving closer and letting their legs and feet brush together. “Jack. Jack, listen. Maybe you can’t go into all the grisly details. Maybe you can’t describe the things they’re doing to me- even if I’ve already survived them. But you can tell me your fears and anxieties. You can tell me when you’ve had a nightmare, and vent your emotions. You don’t need to bottle it all up. You don’t need to stand alone. I’m here. _I am._ And I can still help, even if it’s not as much as I’d like….”

Jack felt Mark’s legs brushing against his, _there_ , even if they couldn’t hug. He wiggled another inch closer to Mark himself and squeezed Mark’s hand. “This does help, Mark. It really does. I’m not just saying that. Just...getting to wake up and see immediately that you’re here and you’re okay...it helps. I’d…” He sighed, closing his eyes. “I used to lie awake for hours and hope you’d have a nightmare, so I had a reason to check that you weren’t dead or gone. This is better.”

“Oh, Jack….” Mark hooked his ankles around Jack’s calves, their knees bumping together. He cradled Jack’s face in one hand, lifting their joined hands to his mouth and kissing at his knuckles. “If we ever get separate beds again, please come get me when you have a nightmare. _Please._ Or at the very least, feel free to check on me. It won’t hurt me. _It won’t._ And if being here, with you, post-nightmare helps as much as it does to prevent mine… then I’m glad we’re here. It’s worth a little clinging.”

Mark just kissed his fingers. Mark just... _what the fuck?_ What the _fuck_ was that!? Jack’s breath hitched as Mark brought their hands to his lips, and he could only stare back into those soft eyes as Mark practically spoke against his skin. Oh shit. _Shit_. He was too in love with this man. This was never gonna end well.

 _Stop staring, you’re gonna weird him out!_ Their legs were twisted together, barely any space between their chests, and Jack could still feel the press of Mark’s lips against his fingers even as Mark dropped their hands lower and looked away. He closed his eyes, ducking his head a little and remembering to breathe. “I...okay. Maybe…” Jack licked his lips a little, cracking his eyes open to peer at Mark through his lashes. “Maybe we should try to get back to sleep?”

Mark managed a tiny smile. “Yeah…. Yeah, good idea. Just toss those on the floor. We’ll get them in the morning or something.” Mark finally released Jack’s face so he could remove his glasses. He reached over Jack to set them back on the bedside table.

“ _I’ll_ get them in the morning,” Jack said. “You don’t need to clean up my snot.” He reached behind him to drop his wad of tissues over the side of the bed before letting his arm return between them. He could _still_ feel where Mark had kissed his fingers. A tiny part of Jack that he was firmly denying was whispering at him to press it to his lips so it was like Mark had kissed _him_ , but A) that was stupid and B) Mark was right there and C) that was _stupid._

“Oh hush, my shirt already kinda did that for us.”

“Good night, Mark,” Jack said, closing his eyes and not moving away. There was more space on Mark’s side of the bed anyway. If Mark didn’t want to be this close, he could move back. Jack was just going to end up clinging anyway. Why bother fighting it? Especially not when it felt good to be able to feel Mark tangled around him, especially on the heels of that nightmare.

“G’night, Jack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	28. Morning 160: Meeting the "Parent"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is nervous. Mark doesn't get it.

Falling asleep in a hug was probably the best accidental decision they had ever made. Mark had panicked only a little when he woke up that first morning, but once he managed to track down his glasses, he was able to get himself under control. Jack had offered to return to Mark’s bed and the pillow wall, but Mark confessed that Jack’s bed was more comfortable anyway...and somehow the pillow wall just didn’t switch rooms with them.

Jack had been worried at first, but Mark said nothing about it, and Jack slept better without the pillows anyway. He didn’t wake up contorted into weird positions as his sleeping self tried to climb past the wall of cotton and stuffing, and sometimes he even woke up with Mark still tucked against him, sleepy and half-awake and all soft in the mid-morning light.

Those were Jack’s favorite mornings, even if it meant there wasn’t coffee already waiting for him. Sleepy morning Mark had the calmest eyes, like he couldn’t really remember his torture when he first woke up, and everything was good in the world.

If Jack was being entirely honest, he liked those mornings for more than just the borrowed innocence in Mark’s face. Waking up with Mark Fischbach nosing against your neck was _not_ a good way to maintain a low-intensity crush on your best friend. More often than not on those late mornings, Jack ended up snatching a few private minutes in a cold shower while Mark shambled around the kitchen getting breakfast ready.

If Jack was being _entirely_ honest, he was getting worried at how frequently these cuddly mornings occurred. Like today. Mark’s face was pressed into Jack’s neck, but he wasn’t asleep. Jack could feel the occasional flutter of lashes when Mark blinked. For his part, Jack had an arm flopped over Mark’s side, tracing idle patterns on Mark’s back, circles and squiggles and things that were in no way hearts. Butterflies. He was drawing butterflies, and breathing in the smell of Mark’s hair and his shampoo.

The more often they woke up like this, the less often Mark panicked. The more often they woke up like this, the more often _Jack_ panicked, internally worrying that his lower half wouldn’t wait until the privacy of a bathroom before acting up. Mark was so much better with bedroom cuddles and hugs, and Jack could even sometimes nuzzle against Mark’s hair in the _very_ early mornings...but Jack had a sneaking suspicion that if his dick tried to join these morning cuddle parties, everything would come crashing down in pieces. He could blame morning wood, of course he could, and Mark would understand, but at the same time…

Jack took a deep breath and sighed, closing his eyes. Why was he worrying about it right now? Today was a good day. Today was a _great_ day. It was the last day Mark would be twenty-seven. Thomas was due to arrive around lunch time, and Chica was safely onboard his flight. Mark had no idea she was coming. No idea Jack had been sneakily stocking up on dog necessities and storing them in the unused garage. No idea that his pup was mere hours away from him, instead of halfway around the world. Jack couldn’t wait to see his face.

He was also looking forward to actually meeting Thomas. That too.

But right now, he could smile at thoughts of the rest of the day, smile at the feel of Mark in his arms, smile as he sketched a dick across Mark’s spine with one finger. He didn’t bother to say anything. As long as Mark wanted to cuddle, Jack was content to hold him.

Mark snorted into Jack’s shirt and huffed out a breathy giggle as he squirmed. “Fuck you, Jack, oh my _God_ we were having such a nice moment there. You know dick jokes are my weakness.” Pleasant morning broken, Mark dragged himself away from Jack.

“I don’t know what time it is, but it’s too late to cook breakfast. So what’ll it be? Mini-marshmallows in milk or toast with jam that’s almost as sugary? Either way, sticky stuff and impending cavities are guaranteed!” Mark reached out to give Jack a vicious hair ruffle.

Mark slipped on his glasses and combed his fingers through his hair, yawning massively. “Fuck, what time _is it,_ even? Don’t we have something to do today?” He scooted off the bed to look out the window at the garden. Throwing one arm up over his head, Mark wrapped the other around it to stretch. He swung his body in all the cardinal directions, twisted back and forth, then reached up far as his spine could stretch, groaning his satisfaction.

“Today is a magical day,” Jack said, flopping onto his back. He watched, fascinated, as Mark stretched. Even completely clothed, Mark was a beautiful man.

Jack rolled onto his side, rumpling the duvet around him.

“June 27,” he explained to his roommate. “Your silver pre-birthday. I figured I’d celebrate it by drawing the magical dick fairy, so that maybe he could grant you every man’s dream...alcohol tolerance.”

“How altruistic of you! Maybe I’ll ask Tom to pick up a bottle of amaretto on the way over. We can see if your efforts paid off. Just keep 999 on speed dial.” Mark shot Jack a cheeky look over his shoulder.

Jack reached up to grab hold of the bars of his bed, arching his back as he stretched himself, careful not to twist his hips upwards. He was, ahem, beginning to _enjoy_ the show Mark was putting on, and he didn’t want Mark to notice. “We can probably make do with toast this morning. We actually have more real food than sugary stuff now, cause Thomas is supposed to get here, and he’s a _grown-up_.” Which meant Thomas would probably want actual vegetables, even though he was only a couple years older than them.

(To be fair, to Jack’s horror, there were days when _he_ wanted vegetables. Adulthood, man. It snuck up on you.)

“Oh, don’t even get me _started_ on Tom’s ‘big boy’ diet. He gets up my ass about eating better _all the time._ I am going to make us all the _healthiest_ lunch ever, just you wait and see. And then? Pizza for dinner. That’ll keep him on his toes.”

“Yay, pizza!” Jack clapped his hands like a little kid, grinning up at Mark. “Good for that too, cause I need to make a cake today.” They had been gathering supplies for Mark’s shit-post party all week. Jack hadn’t told Thomas any of _those_ plans. That was up to Mark to share.

“If you need any help, I'm sure Tom would be happy to ‘supervise’. Aka give you a bunch of orders and suggestions that may or may not help.”

Thomas was going to arrive today. Thomas was going to arrive, and Jack was going to have to face the older Fischbach and tell him that Mark was sharing his bed now, and Thomas could have the spare room. Jack sat up carefully, drawing his knees up beneath the duvet and resting his chin on them as he smiled at Mark. “You ready for him?” _You ready for him to ask if we’re gay?_

Mark rubbed the back of his neck as he turned to face Jack with a small smile. “I’ll always be ready for my big brother. It’s just a little easier now.” He headed for the door, always quicker to get mornings started than Jack was. “Better have a tissue box ready though, ‘cause I’m a big, bubble-blowin’ baby and I’m gonna turn on the waterworks when he gets here.”

Jack grinned at Mark, raking his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame his bedhead. “Don’t worry. I’ve stocked up on those too.”

“What would I ever do without you?” Mark swooned a little and batted his lashes at Jack dramatically before leaving the room.

Jack maintained his smile until Mark left the room, then curled on his side with a groan, one hand sneaking beneath the duvet to press against his half-chub. “Fuck’s sake,” he muttered under his breath to his dick. “It’s _Mark_. Stop thinking you’re gonna get any.”

Jack didn't bother with a cold shower today. He laid in bed, thinking unsexy thoughts about his grandparents until he had fully scared away any arousal, then rolled out of bed with a yawn. He scrubbed at his hair again as he headed into the bathroom to empty his bladder, then went to hunt Mark down. In the kitchen. Bending over in the fridge with his ass in the air.

“You are damn lucky I'm being nice to you because it's almost your birthday,” Jack remarked, hopping onto the counter and swinging his feet. “Because if you were one of my brothers, I totally would've smacked dat booty.”

That wasn't the real reason, of course, and they both knew it. Jack's hands weren't going anywhere near Mark's ass, even in play, anytime soon.

“You wouldn't _dare._ The Markibooty is too legendary for your _wee little hands,_ Jackaboy. Just sit there and weep tears of joy like everyone else.” Mark countered; voice a little muffled from his head being shoved deep inside the fridge. He gave his butt a little wiggle, clearly in a playful mood.

“Oh, say that to my face and I'll show you _wee little hands!_ ” Jack waggled his fingers at Mark, though he practically choked on his tongue at the wiggle Mark gave him in return. “Jesus, Mark, you are _asking_ for trouble!” Not just because Mark had a gorgeous ass that Jack _really_ wanted to get his hands on in a not-PG way. The baby brother side of Jack was itching to be a little shit himself and goose his housemate. He resisted. Barely.

“ _Wee. Little._ ** _Hands._** ”

Jack blew a raspberry at Mark, scrunching up his nose. “Don't use the strawberry jam. That's for your cake. There should be blackcurrant in the back?” Jack glanced over at the coffee maker, bouncing a little when it started sputtering out the first drops of delicious ambrosia. Best sound in the world. Not the best view though. That was still shoulder-deep in the fridge.

“Aw, I can't even use a little? Fine. Guess we'll need to pick up more grape. Or maybe we could get some more of that orange marmalade you got from the farmer’s market once….”

Mark withdrew from the fridge with cream and butter and jam. He dropped the dairy straight into Jack’s lap. “There. Since you're sitting _your_ Irish butt on my counter, _you_ can be my counter. Watch the toast.”

“ _Your_ counter!?” Jack sputtered along with the coffee maker, catching the cream and butter before he dropped them both to the clean floor. “Excuse me, just because you do _most_ of the cooking doesn't mean the counter is _yours_! It's _my_ ‘watch Mark make me breakfast’ seat!” He set the dairy beside him and twisted to better eye up the toaster. Why Mark had such a problem with it, Jack didn't know. It was just a matter of stopping it before the toast went black… “Pass me a plate?”

“Fine, fine. _Our_ counter. Sorry, sugarlumps,” Mark grumbled as he fished out two plates and two mugs from the cupboard. “You can watch me make our toaster disappear if it burns our breakfast again.” He passed over the plates, set the mugs by the coffee maker and grabbed two butter knives from a drawer.

Jack pulled a face at the other man, accepting the plates and setting them beside the dairy.

“If the toaster disappears, you'll have to learn how to toast in the oven.” Jack reached over to cancel the cycle, popping up two perfectly golden brown pieces of toast and replacing them with fresh bread. “Mm, toasted perfection. See, Mark, this is why I did so good with I Am Bread and you...didn't.”

Jack gave Mark a cheeky grin, ready with a foot to block the other man from getting too close if he took a swipe.

Mark’s lips pinched into a scowl, and he glowered at the toaster. “Well what's the point of installing a timer if it's gonna be wrong all the time, huh?? And don't even speak of that blasphemous game in my presence! It was the controls and you _know it._ Irish people just have magic on their side.”

“Uh-huh, controls. And that's why no one else raged out as much as you. Sure.” Jack nodded knowingly. “Even though the controls were obviously _intentionally_ sloppy…”

“We've been over this. I'm emotional. At least I haven't overreacted to any of our recent games.” Mark whined, referring to the minor matches and video-less collabs he and Jack had done every other day or so. “Who makes controls _intentionally_ bad, anyway? Like putting in a timer that can't even time right….”

“It just doesn’t know how thick our specific bread is,” Jack assured Mark. “It’s not _intentionally_ being bad…” He almost patted the toaster. Almost, then thought better of it. It was probably hot.

“So is it a sit-at-the-table-like-civilized-folk day or a  fuck-it-let's-just-eat-in-the-kitchen-like-bachelors day?”

“Let's eat in the kitchen so we don't get toast crumbs everywhere. We need to convince Thomas that it's good for you to live here and not that I'm making you live in a pig sty.” The house had gotten an even more thorough cleaning for Thomas than it did for Maggie, and most of Mark's things ended up moved into Jack's room. Jack had ended up chasing Mark around with the hoover yesterday when Mark traipsed in fresh dirt from the garden just after Jack finished cleaning the floors. He grinned at the memory of Mark's breathless laughter.

Mark nabbed the first two pieces of toast for himself. He shrugged as he spread butter onto one slice. “We’re two bachelors sharing a whole house. If Tom isn't expecting _a little_ mess then his expectations are way too high. Besides, my house wasn't always perfect. My _room_ wasn't always perfect. One time I went and ate on Tom’s bed, _on purpose,_ because I knew I'd get crumbs everywhere. So then he dumped a bunch of ants in _my_ bed. Basically, our mom was pretty pissed, and we both got in trouble. So yeah. He's used to it.”

Jack wrinkled his nose as Mark swiped the toast, but he didn't complain. Mark had gotten the coffee started. He earned a pass. “I know. I _know_ Tom's gonna be realistic. But I also know he's the only thing keeping your moms from charging to Ireland. I need to keep him happy and impressed with me if I want him to stay an ally in that particular battle.”

Mark smiled softly. “It would take an absolute _moron_ not to see you've taken good care of me. And that's coming _from_ an absolute moron, so.”

At Mark's smile, Jack wiggled a little, looking down at his feet as his ears went pink from the embarrassment. “I can barely take care of _myself_ half the time,” he protested. “I'm not _really_ that great for you…” What Jack had done for Mark, surely any of his friends would have. Even down to sleeping beside him. Probably. Maybe? Or maybe that was just Jack's guilty pleasure, enjoying the feel of Mark in his arms in the morning, pretending that Mark was there because he wanted to be there, _loved_ to be there, and not because he was a traumatized mess who got triggered by being alone in a bedroom at night.

Jack concealed a sigh, fishing out the next slices of toast and popping two more pieces of bread in. Yeah. So much for keeping his crush under control. Who was he kidding? He _loved_ Mark, loved everything about the man, and watching Mark recover from his torture was only instilling more awe and respect in Jack's heart with every new obstacle overcome. When Mark's lungs healed and he returned to the States, Jack was going to miss him like a lost limb.

Mark shook his head. “Jack, Tom trusts you. He believes in you. Even if my moms are nagging you and don't seem to feel the same, they do. They _all_ trust me with you. If they didn't they would've come to be with me a long time ago. Seriously. My moms are just worried. But Tom’s confident in you, and he'll keep them at bay. Seeing some mess or shenanigans won't change that. If he could have seen me- _really_ seen me- back then… nothing would change his mind about you, seeing me now.” He spread jam on his other slice of toast, glancing up at Jack frequently. “This… all my improvement, Jack… it's because of _us._ It's because of me, and all you've done to support me. Don't ever think otherwise.”

Jack snagged the butter from Mark so he could start buttering up his bread. “I can’t really blame them. I mean, it’s been over five months since PAX. That’s gotta be forever in mom-years.” That was one of many reasons why Jack had never moved to L.A., despite so many people begging him to (including the dark-haired man preparing toast in his kitchen). His parents would _flip_ if he was so far away from them. It was hard enough with Malcolm in Paris. L.A. was practically a different _planet_ as far as they were concerned.

“That _is_ forever in mom years. A _week_ is forever in mom years. You should've seen the reactions when I said I was moving….”

“It’s just...it feels a lot like meeting the parents,” Jack said, going even pinker, giving his legs a swing. “I know it’s _not_ , but Tom’s like, the most important person in your life. And the last thing I want is to screw things up. In any way. Between anyone. And I know I _won’t_ , but that doesn’t make it _easier_ , right?”

Mark was grinning at him. Ass. “You're so nervous right now, but he's gonna show up, and you're gonna see how much of a nerd he is. And then you're going to kick yourself for getting so worked up in the first place. Trust me. Tom’s too much of a hairy marshmallow to be intimidating.”

“I know, I _know_ , but it’s like...it’s like meeting you for the first time! I can’t even...I was freaking out _so much_ , you have _no_ idea!” Jack pouted at Mark. “I had myself so psyched out. Meeting other YouTubers, meeting _you_ , being in America...so many firsts! And now...now look at us. Sharing a house, sharing a _bed_?” Jack scrunched his mouth to the side to give Mark a squinty-eyed look. “You and I know it’s both platonic,” _on Mark’s end,_ “but I’m the one who gets to convince a protective big brother that I’m not manipulating you into anything.”

And since Jack sometimes doubted it himself, he was doubly nervous for meeting up with Tom. How was he supposed to convince Mark’s brother of something that Jack himself doubted at times?

Mark shook his head. “It'll be fine. You'll see.”

 _No, don't think about that, not now, not today!_ Jack scolded himself. Chica was coming! Chica was coming, and speaking of Chica…

“So, uh, I was thinking. About Tom. When he shows up. If you're...if you want to work in the garden today, when he shows up, I can go over the rules with him. What is and isn't okay. Head him off before he surprises you with a hug.” What Jack actually meant was: _please get distracted out back so you don't notice us smuggling your dog inside…_

Mark hummed thoughtfully. “Guess that's a good idea. Wouldn't want the first thing he sees of me to be a panic attack. And I _did_ want to make sure everything looked nice in the garden for tomorrow….” His voice turned serious as he fixed their coffees. “You'd better come get me soon as you're done though, Jacksepticeye.” Mark handed over Jack’s mug then picked up his own for a sip. He leaned a hip against the counter, still facing Jack, as he started munching on his toast. “You know I planted some vegetables in the garden, right?”

Jack was all too willing to change the subject, so he eagerly grabbed at the new topic Mark offered. “Oh? What sort of vegetables? I should know, I bought the seeds, but...eh. Seeds are seeds are seeds, and I don’t remember them all. Pineapple?”

Mark gave a snort of amusement as he swallowed his toast. “No. Oh my God, Jack, pineapples are _tropical._ You can't grow _pineapples_ in _Ireland._ Goddamn.”

“I swear you said something about us having pineapple plants!” Jack protested. “I _swear_ it. I thought it was weird, but _you said it_ , and you’re the gardener, so…” He huffed into his mug.

“I said we had pineapple _weed,_ Jack. It’s a weed. It’s growing back there naturally. Maybe if you paid a little more _attention_ to all my gardening babble you wouldn’t have thought pineapples were a… _vegetable_ we were growing back there.”

“I don’t fucking know! I’m a whale biologist, not a botanist!” Jack stuck out his tongue at Mark. “I remembered you said we had pineapples! So I forgot the weed bit. I try not to do drugs, unlike you, Mr. My-Crack-Habit-Worries-My-Viewers!” Jack still remembered when Mark had been so confused over his community’s sudden concern for his non-existent drug habit. He still got a huge laugh out of the memory.

“Hey, I don’t do drugs anymore, okay. I only get high off life now.” Mark countered with a slight stereotypical stoner edge to his voice. “I got some herbs, mainly, but I planted hardy veggies that grow well here too. Carrots, cabbage, radishes…” He smirked. “...potatoes.”

“So...vegetables? _Potatoes_? Dear lord, Mark, I am _not_ taking care of those things. If you want to grow potatoes, that’s fine, but you don’t tell people _I’m_ doing it. They’re _your_ potato-babies, yeah?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Jack, you haven’t exactly stuck your hands into _anything_ relating to the garden. So no, I wasn’t expecting you to help me grow them.”

Jack was trying not to snicker at the thought of Mark growing potatoes in Ireland. He wasn’t succeeding very well. He shook his head, suddenly laughing outright. “Oh fuck, we _have_ to show them off in the birthday video! Markiplier and his Irish potato-babies, because he’s gone all native! You can stand over them with your thumbs in your belt and your chest all puffed out ‘and here we have a hearty crop o’ spuds…’”

Mark’s birthday video was going to be _amazing_. It was going to have everything the Markiplier community loved: Markiplier, his faithful pup Chica, big bro Thomas, cameo by Jacksepticeye, and all kinds of dank dumb memes. Jack couldn’t _wait_. He was so glad he’d been filming extra videos to prepare for the next week, so he didn’t need to stick to two a day. He’d have time to spend with Mark and Chica and Thomas.

Mark stuck his tongue out. “The entire _backyard_ is my baby so you’d better be nice to it when we film the vlog tomorrow. No reckless destruction of flora.” Still, he was chuckling. “We’re gonna show off all my hard work, all right. Including the veggies. Felix’ll never stop calling you a potato after he sees that.”

“ _Your_ potatoes,” Jack said. “ _Yours_. I’m gonna...fuck. _Fuck._ I was going to call them Potatoes Fischbach, but you _know_ that’ll only make Felix insufferable about how you plus me equals baby potatoes. And I am _so_ not the mother.”

“So what then, they’re Potatoes McLoughlin? Ha! That sounds like it _could_ be your name. Guess that’s what you get for wanting to be the father. Hope you’re ready to pay child support.”

Jack fished out the next two slices of toast before they burned, glancing over at Mark. “How many more do you want?” He’d take four himself, probably. He wasn’t that hungry, and he was going to lick the cake bowl, so…

Mark sighed happily. “Mmm… nah. I’m good. I’m not really all that hungry and now that you’ve suggested it, I kinda wanna get to work in the garden. There’s some stuff I can pick for our lunch.”

Mark crammed the last few bites of his toast into his mouth and hummed. “You sure you’re gonna be okay with baking that funfetti cake all by yourself? I’m not gonna walk back into a complete food disaster, am I?”

Of course, Mark had to mention the cake, and Jack rolled his eyes. “You cook all the time because you wake up first and get hungry first, not because I _can’t_. Fed myself for _years_ before you came along! _And_ my parents! You wait and see. As soon as we’re done with this toast, we’re getting dressed and then you’re going outside and I’m going to create a masterpiece in here.”

Such as setting up a dog crate and washing the dog bowls. Also a cake. Jack was going to do that too. It was a square cake, though. How hard could it be?

Mark drained the rest of his coffee in one go and set the mug in the sink. “Masterpiece, right. Just try not to use the floors and walls as a canvas, okay? Like, don’t turn _fun_ fetti into _con_ fetti, if you catch my drift. Anyway, I’mma go get dressed. If you need me to help or something just come get me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	29. Morning 160: First Meetings and Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three men and a dog.

Jack had gotten showered and dressed, fussing over his hair far too much. Thomas had seen his hair before. Thomas had seen his hair a mess, mussed from too many fingers pushed against the roots, tugging at the green in agitation as Mark fell apart day after day in the hospital. Jack didn’t need to _impress_ Thomas!

Still, he took care not to get any flour on his dark skinny jeans or red shirt as he prepared the cakes for Mark’s Tiny Box Tim cake. It was going to be two layers, with the strawberry jam in-between, frosted with chocolate. (Jack _might_ have reached out to a few of the cooking YouTubers for advice...and his mother…) Once the cakes were baking, Jack went about setting up the living room for Chica’s imminent arrival.

The knock on the door came just after Jack had pulled the cakes out and set them on a rack to cool. Instead of smiling, he felt a sudden flurry of butterflies beating against his stomach and guts. _It’s just Thomas,_ he told himself, dusting his hands off on a towel and tugging his shirt straight. _You’ve talked to him loads of times. He’s just Mark’s brother. Your brothers aren’t that scary…_

Except they probably would be, if Jack was the one who’d been tortured and dumped halfway around the world several months ago. Jack swallowed past his nerves, pressing his shaking hands together, and went to answer the door. _Chica will be there too. Chica will be there!_

Unless she wasn’t. Unless something had happened on the flight over and she had gotten sick or _died_ and oh god if he had to tell Mark that he’d gone and gotten Chica killed and…

And thank _god_ , but Chica was right there on the other side of the door, pulling at her leash, all soft brown eyes and golden fur and furiously wagging tail, just like Jack remembered. He might have cried if he’d been a little less nervous. Instead, he just swallowed again and smiled: Thomas Fischbach could not be more terrifying than an entire auditorium packed full of hundreds of people who came just to see _him._ He looked a lot like Mark anyway, albeit one with longer hair and a fuller mustache and beard. Jack could do this. He faked confidence at conventions, he could fake it now. “Thomas? Hey! It’s great to finally meet you in person! Hi Chica-bica, do you remember me?” Jack offered Chica a hand to sniff and lick, rubbing behind her ears once she accepted him.

Thomas was not quite so easy to read. Exhaustion, that much was obvious. Anything else, Jack was unsure of. “Here, come in. Mark’s out back, working in the garden. Did you find the house okay?” Obviously Thomas had found it in the end, but Jack hoped his directions hadn’t made the man wander around Ireland for ages first.

Tom yawned as he stepped inside with Chica. “Yeah. Your directions were pretty confusing but that’s what they invented a GPS for. Good thing I thought to stretch for that international data before leaving….” He paused to give Jack another once-over. “...nice to meet you, Jack.” He released the handle of his rolling luggage to extend a hand.

“Heh...good thinking…” Way to start off making a great impression. Jack wiped his licked hand off on his jeans before taking Tom’s. Not that Tom probably wasn’t coated with Chica’s slobber already, but still, a wet handshake was not fun.

Handshakes themselves weren’t scary though. Jack had tons of practice shaking hands. He knew how to be firm without squeezing fingers, loose enough to not cause discomfort without being a dead fish, and _oh sweet jesus Tom was breaking his fingers_. Jack’s smile flickered but he was a _professional_ , dammit, so he maintained his good cheer even as he looked up into brown eyes that were exactly like Mark’s and yet couldn’t be more different. _Christ on a bike he wants to kill me…_ Tom was Mark’s big brother. _Protective_ oozed from every inch of this gesture. If Jack screwed Mark up in _any_ way, he was due for an ass-kicking.

So...why not start things off on an even worse foot than bad directions? “There’s, uh, there’s been some changes to the plan,” Jack said, his voice not wobbling even as Tom cut off the circulation to his fingers. “Turns out we do have a guest room for you after all. Complete with a bed and privacy and everything. Even has a desk. So we can, um, leave Chica in the living room and I can show you where you’ll be staying?” _Please let go of my hand. I need it to frost Mark’s cake, if nothing else…_

Tom gave Jack’s fingers one more pointed squeeze before finally releasing his aching hand. He quirked a brow but gave Chica a reassuring scratch before grabbing his bag again. “Okay. Cool. Lead the way, then. I’m assuming you wanna put her in the crate so she doesn’t go ballistic trying to get outside?” She was already sniffing at the ground as if to track her boy.

Jack flexed his sore fingers and tried not to wince openly. Who’da thunk that being an artist would strengthen your grip so much? “Yeah, I nabbed one of Mark’s pillows from last night and stuck it in there already. Should be nice and Mark-smelly for her. Here Chica, c’mere girl, let me show you your little room!” Jack rubbed his right hand as he led Thomas and Chica to the living room, hoping it wouldn’t bruise.

“Good thinking.”

“So, er, how was traveling with her? Everything went smoothly? I’m so fucking glad she made it here in one piece…” Jack crouched down beside the crate, holding the door open and patting the pillow. “Chica, c’mere, can you smell your daddy?”

“Yeah, wasn’t as bad as I thought it was gonna be. I mean, fourteen hour flights _suck,_ I’ve learned that much. But Chica slept for most of it I guess thanks to the sedative her vet gave us. She was scared of the crate and plane at first. By the time we landed, sleep or not, she was just as eager to get back on solid ground as I was. Been going nuts ever since. You know dogs and new places.”

“Tell me about it,” Jack said with a little groan. “And people don’t understand why I don’t do more American conventions.” When she got close enough, Jack seized her collar, unbuckling it and pulling it off before nudging the golden inside to roll on the pillow. He glanced back at Thomas as he slid the collar in his pocket.

“Don’t ask. Not yet.”

Tom watched Chica settle into her crate, then turned to meet Jack’s gaze. They stared each other down for a minute, but then Tom sighed from his nose and conceded. “So. Room?”

Jack gave Chica one last pat before closing the crate and locking the door in place. Tom didn’t ask about the collar, and Jack relaxed a little. He might tell Tom eventually. Maybe. It depended on how much Jack felt Tom needed to know, and whether or not Mark actually told him. It wasn’t really his secret to share, after all. He got to his feet and nodded. “Room’s this way.”

As Jack led Thomas to Mark’s old room, he pointed out all the other doors in the small house. “Dining room and kitchen through there, and the door to the back garden. Bathroom. Recording room--don’t go in if the door is closed. Don’t even knock. Text me instead.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “You forget I’ve been dealing with Mark’s Youtube lifestyle for _years._ ”

Jack hesitated, then gestured. “Our room. Your room.” He pushed the door open.

Tom blinked and whipped his head around to look at Jack first in utter confusion, then gradually growing suspicion. His head tilted slightly, and the hardness returned to his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but his gaze was caught by the window, and suddenly Jack was gone from Tom’s mind as he crossed the room.

The guest room overlooked the back garden, and Mark was visible, though his back was to the window, as he tended his plants. Jack glanced out at him, then back to Tom, speaking up quickly and firmly before Tom could mention his choice of pronouns. “Okay, so here’s my plan. Mark is going to be a _mess_ when he sees Chica, so I want to give him some private time with her. I didn’t know what you’d need in here, so there’s a bit of everything.” Jack gestured at a spread on the table, where there were some toiletries, bottles of water, little snacks, the wi-fi password (which ended up being durrhurrmarkiplur69). “Feel free to use the bathroom or whatever. I’ll bring Mark to Chica, then I’ll come back here and answer any questions you have, and he’ll join us when he’s ready. Okay?”

The exhaustion was seeping away from Tom’s posture as he curled his fingers against the glass, clearly not hearing Jack at all.

“Yeah,” Jack said quietly. “Yeah, he’s _so_ much better than he used to be.”

Jack closed his mouth and let Tom stare. Mark wasn’t looking back. It was fine. And Jack was hardly going to begrudge Tom the first real glimpse of his brother after a fourteen-hour flight to bring Chica here.

Tom closed his eyes, took a moment to compose himself, and turned back to Jack. “You’re gonna have to repeat, like, all of that. Not even kidding.”

And hey, now Tom’s eyes were looking a bit more like Mark’s, a bit more familiar and comfortable. Jack gave a little smile and a little shrug. “I got you some stuff to get started,” he said, pointing at the desk again. “And feel free to use the bathroom. But I’m going to bring Mark to Chica first and let him have some private time with her. After they’re reunited, I’ll come back here and answer any questions you may have, and he can come join us when he’s ready. Because that’s a thing. He _looks_ better, but you have to wait for him to be ready before doing anything new, even if it’s really an old.” Like seeing his brother again. “Sound good?”

Tom looked over the table, then glanced back out the window at Mark again. His discomfort was obvious in his face as he sat stiffly on the bed, eyes being drawn back to Mark outside. “...all right. If you think that’s what needs to be done, then I believe you. Right now… you know him better than I do...try not to take _too_ long… please.”

 _I don’t want to share him yet._ “He’s been looking forward to this ever since I told him,” Jack said quietly. “And that was without knowing Chica was coming along. He made me promise to tell him the moment you showed up. I’ll hurry, so you can ask your questions before _he’s_ hurried.” Because even with Chica there, Jack knew Mark would want to see his brother. And Jack would have to share him. Even if it was only for a week. Was _this_ why Mark got so upset over Maggie? This feeling of not wanting to share?

“It shouldn’t be too long.”

Jack left Tom sitting on the bed while he went out to the garden to get Mark. He stopped just before he opened the door to turn on some music--the soundtrack to Horizon--twisting the volume up enough so the squeaks of Chica’s crate couldn’t be heard. He then stepped into the garden, whistling as he approached Mark from behind.

Mark had been weeding his vegetables, but he perked up, dirt-covered and excited. He popped to his feet to meet Jack. “Jack!”

“Hey there. So...promise you won’t get mad at me?” Jack linked his hands together behind his back, knowing Tom was watching through the window, not wanting Tom to see Jack touch Mark and think it was okay for him to do the same. “Tom’s here...but there’s something else I want to do first. Can I give you your birthday present?”

Eagerness shifted to confusion, and Mark frowned. “Jack… I’m grateful for whatever you got me, really I am, but don’t you think seeing my brother for the first time in half a year might be just a _little_ more important?”

“Ordinarily, yes,” Jack said, rocking back and forth from toes to heels. “But...Tom had to bring the last piece of it from America, and it’s kinda sorta time-sensitive, and...can you just trust me, Mark?” Jack cocked his head to the side, not giving Mark his blue puppy eyes yet, nor pouting, but doing the first stage of adorable manipulation to warn Mark that he’d break out the big guns if necessary. “I know how much you’ve wanted to see Tom again, and I wouldn’t delay it unless I thought it was _really really important._ Please?”

“Time-sensitive??” Mark continued to pout. “Of course I trust you….” He looked towards the house for a while, then dragged his eyes back to Jack and sighed heavily. “...fine. But this _better_ be as important as you say it is.”

“If you don’t think it was worth the delay, I will take care of the potatoes,” Jack said, drawing an X over his heart. “I will do more than just pay child support, I will actually nurture and help them grow.” It was a silly promise, perhaps, but Mark knew how vehemently _against_ potato care Jack was. To them, it meant something.

Mark squinted at Jack and sighed as he trailed after Jack across the lawn. “I’m holding you to that, y’know. Better hope you’re not wrong about this present.”

“C’mon!” Serious moment over, Jack bounced on his toes and started back toward the house, leading Mark without touching him. Tom was still watching, Jack was sure. No touching. Not yet.

Just inside, Jack stopped and looked at Mark again. “Okay, so...can you still trust me? And close your eyes...and cover your ears? I’ll lead you to the living room by your elbows...Mark, I promise, I _promise_ , there is no chance of this triggering you. I _promise_. I just didn’t have time to...wrap it...”

Mark tracked dirt inside the house and stopped to stare at Jack. There was a wary frown forming on his face. “Jack….”

Hesitantly, Mark closed his eyes and brought his hands up to cover his ears. Immediately, his face grew tense with anxiety. Mark shifted to cup his hands over his ears instead of pressing them flat. “Jack, if we’re doing this, you’d better be fast because I’m not going to lie here, I _really_ don’t like this.”

“It's okay, I'm right here. Trust me, you'll know when you can open your eyes.” Jack took Mark's elbows gently, leading Mark through the house. “Okay, we're in the hall, here's the living room, the couch is right behind you, you can sit, don't open your eyes yet…” Jack spoke loud enough for Mark to hear him, hoping Mark couldn't hear Chica's whines or her tail thumping against the cage the moment she saw her human. “Stay there…”

Mark sat on the couch, hunching forward. “Jack… c’mon, are we done yet?” There was a whine in his voice, and Mark took his hands away from his ears. He kept his eyes shut, though, still trusting Jack.

Jack let go of Mark's arms and hurried to the cage, pulling his phone out. He set it to record and then opened the door. Immediately, Chica rushed Mark, her bark so excited it came out too high to hear.

“Is that-” Mark got an answer to his question before it could even be asked as Chica practically flew up into his lap. His eyes snapped open. Chica yipped and yowled excitedly as she wasted no time in slobbering wet kisses all over Mark’s face. He sputtered, sinking his hands into that soft fur. “Chica!” Another excited bark, and her tail thumped at his legs. She whined, butting her head under his chin.

Mark crumbled. He clutched and scratched and rubbed down Chica’s entire length. His glasses had been knocked askew, but he ignored them as he scrubbed at Chica’s head and ears. “Chica! Oh, Chica, Chica-bica, you’re here. You’re actually here, you’re okay, o-oh my God….” Mark was crying and hiccuping, holding Chica steady so he could _look_ at her. “I f-forgot how beautiful you were, girl. I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry I haven’t been there, oh pupperschnupp, oh my little Chica….”

The golden retriever licked at his nose and gave another soft little yip in her own giddiness. Mark’s sob was caught up in a chuckle and he wrapped his arms around the big dog. She was perfectly content to be pulled in close for a hug; having settled firmly and resolutely in Mark’s lap. _No one_ was moving her any time soon. Mark buried his face into the soft fur of her chest. Chica nosed affectionately at his hair. A little doggy huff of air sent the dark hairs billowing and his responding giggle was muffled by golden fur.

“Happy birthday, Mark,” Jack said before stopping the recording, grinning ear-to-ear at how _happy_ Mark was. He was crying, yes, but Jack was a bit of an expert on Mark's tears, and he knew these weren't sad at all. “Worth delaying Thomas?”

Mark muffled another sob into Chica’s fur before vigorously nodding his head. He snuffled and nuzzled at his dog before turning his head. His cheek remained firmly pressed into her fur. “Yes, y-yes, God yes, thank you, th-thank you Jack thank you, oh my God….” Mark’s face was a mess, but it was also showing the most happiness Jack had seen on Mark’s face in half a year. There wasn’t a trace of anxiety or hesitance there; only unbridled joy.

Jack didn't move to intrude on the man and his dog. He just held up his phone. “I'm sorry, Mark, I recorded that without asking, but I'd like to show it to Tom, if that's okay with you. I figured after flying out to L.A.to get her, and then taking the full fourteen hour flight to get here, he deserved to see your reunion. I'll delete the video immediately after showing him. No one else will see it.”

Mark deserved some time with Chica on his own, so Jack stepped toward the door. “I'll be in the guest room with Tom whenever you're ready. And Chica...Chica is staying here with us as long as you are. Tom and I took care of all the paperwork to bring a dog into the country. The only thing she still needs is her tags and collar.” _If you're ready to give it back…_

Mark turned his face back into Chica some and gave another trembling nod. “I-it’s fine, it’s fine, h-he can see… he deserves to see, God, I owe him…. I owe you… fuck, Chica, Chica baby you get to be with daddy now, it’s okay. Oh Chica I love you so much… such a good, good girl. Good dog, Chica….” Chica licked at his ear.

“It's a _birthday present_ , Mark. You don't have to repay birthday presents.” God, Jack wished he could take a picture of _that_ face, that giddy stupid _joy_ that had been missing for too long.

Instead, Jack headed down the hall to the guest room, knocking on the door before entering. He held out his phone to Thomas with the video pulled up. “He's going to need some time before he's coherent again, but I think we can call this a success.” Jack retreated from the older man, taking the desk chair and waiting for Thomas to finish the short video before speaking again.

Tom looked up when Jack entered the room, clearly disappointed that Jack wasn’t Mark. He accepted the phone and replayed the video twice. He sniffled a bit as he passed the phone back to Jack.

“There are... _rules_. For dealing with Mark. Break them at your own peril.” Jack took a deep breath and held up a finger with every new rule. “No touching. Absolutely _no_ touching without his consent. If you want to touch him, you need to ask first, and make sure he knows what you're about to do, whether it's a hug or clap on the shoulder. He's a little more relaxed around me, but that's because he's _used_ to me. And there are some things: a hand out with the palm up is an invitation to hold it. You can ask the same way. It's always better to invite contact and let him decide than to press it upon him.”

Second finger. “If he _does_ let you hug him, and I suspect he will, you can't hug tight. You don't have to be dead fish, but you can't actually _hold_ him. He needs to feel like he can break away. Your hands and arms can only go between shoulder and waist. No lower. Absolutely no higher.”

And that led Jack to his third point. “ _Do not touch his hair._ No ruffles, tugs, pats, nuzzles, _no._ ” Jack was aware that his rules thus far were all variations of rule one, but he needed to make sure Tom understood. “There is no exception to this rule, even if he scrubs up your hair, or puts it in a man-bun, you _do not_ retaliate.”

Jack had tried to consolidate all the rules of dealing with Mark to make it easier for Thomas, but no matter what, it was going to be exhausting. Fourth finger. “Move slowly around him. If you're behind him, make noise so he knows.” And fifth finger: “Respect his choices. If you ask him something and he gives you an answer you don't like, tough. He's still not entirely convinced that he has control over his life, so whenever he makes a choice, you have to let him have it. ‘Gee, Mark, it's raining, maybe you shouldn't work in the garden today.’ 'No, I want to.’ You have to say okay and let him.”

Tom was frowning, but he listened attentively to Jack’s rules. “So… ask to touch, don’t squeeze too hard, only touch designated areas, **_do not_** touch the hair, move slowly, make noise and respect his choices. Just a warning: might need some help with that last one. I’ve been mothering Mark whenever our moms weren’t from the day he was born, so.” Tom shrugged.

Jack shrugged back. “The last one is the one I struggle with the most too, and it's the most forgiving if you break it. It's not going to break Mark if you say no to him, or try to discourage him from doing something genuinely stupid, and he'll have to be eased back into rejection eventually, but it's most important about things involving his body, like what he's wearing or eating. He...they took _everything_ from him, down to his own bodily autonomy and emotional control…” Jack swallowed, looking down at his hands clenched into fists. If he could kill them, he would.

He let out his breath through his nose, willing himself to be calm again, and looked back at Tom. “So...any questions?”

From the look on Tom’s face, he was expecting answers in exchange for following the rules. “Plenty. First off: the collar. Why’d you take Chica’s off? Were you worried seeing it would trigger Mark? Because he told me you guys still had her old one, so that doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

Answers for obedience was a fair trade, though Jack might hold back some details. “Did you never think it odd that as Mark healed in the hospital, he always had that thick bandage around his neck?” Jack asked quietly. “Or that he's taken to wearing high collars after leaving? Did you never wonder _why?” I'm not going to tell you outright, but I'll lead you to the answer._

Tom stared Jack down with a furrowed brow. Obviously, he was sifting through these questions in his head, trying to correlate what exactly Jack was getting at. “I… we figured it was a neck injury. Maybe from them jerking him around in the collar so much. Or one of his panic attacks….” Tom scratched lightly at his beard as his gaze dropped to the floor. “I never… really questioned his fashion choices. I mean, even before what happened. It’s Mark. He’s always been eclectic. I figured maybe, the cover helped him. Covered up scars or something… like the long sleeves.” There was a poignant pause.

“...are you trying to tell me he’s been keeping his neck covered for something other than an injury? Something to do with Chica’s collar? I don’t…” Tom shook his head. “...no. No, that can’t be it. That doesn’t make any sense. You wouldn’t let him just…” Tom went quiet, thinking, expression pensive. He shook his head again and gripped at the fabric of his jeans. “He wouldn’t. Not after leaving that place. He _wouldn’t,_ Jack, that _can’t_ be what you mean. Tell me that’s not it.” Tom looked back to the Irishman, expression almost pleading, skeptical; refusing to believe something so _horrifying._ It was so much like Jack’s reaction in the hospital. Jack’s heart ached in sympathy.

“Rule five,” Jack said quietly. “You respect his choices, especially about his body. About what he wears.” He closed his eyes with a grimace, digging the heel of his fist into his thigh, feeling the hard press of Chica's replacement collar in his pocket. “It...It _grounds_ him. I'm hoping...between him not wanting you to see and Chica needing it back, he might…”

Jack knew the horror Tom was feeling. He had gone through it himself, so many times, watching Mark with that damn collar around his throat. He opened his eyes again to look at Tom, heartbroken and pleading. “If he doesn't, if he's still wearing it...just don't mention it. Try not to stare at it. Just treat it like a fashion accessory and not…” Not an implement of torture used to break Mark's mind and heart. “And if he's _not_ wearing it...I never said anything about it. You never knew. Understood?”

“Jesus fuck….” Tom whispered, reaching up to hold his head as he hunched over. His elbows were on his knees, and his face showed his devastation.

“You have no fucking idea.” Jack forced his hands to unclench, rubbing his palms against his jeans. “I _hate_ that collar...But sometimes it's the only thing that'll snap him out of a panic.” Jack couldn't tell Mark to get rid of it. He _wouldn't_ tell Tom that he was the one who gave it back in the first place.

Tom scrabbled through his hair once more, then released a heavy sigh. He took just a moment to smooth down some of the damage before looking back to Jack. “Understood…. Christ, I hope he gives it back to Chica, though.”

“If he gives it back to Chica, I'm gonna be so proud of him, and let him know it.” Jack would praise Mark for both of them if Mark was strong enough to take the collar off. He'd know tonight, when Mark got ready for bed and traded in the high collar for comfort.

Tom tried to regain his composure as he spoke again. “Next question. Earlier, the way you pointed out one of the rooms. You said it was _‘our’_ room. As in you _and_ Mark. You never pointed out Mark’s room. Explain.”

And of course, Thomas asked the question Jack had been expecting ever since he gave his house tour. Ever since it became apparent that Mark sleeping in his bed was the norm and not an exception. Thankfully, Jack had also been preparing an answer that long.

“Mark sleeps in my room.” Jack met Tom's eyes. _Don't show fear. Don't be nervous. It makes sense._ “He got taken from a bed in a room he was trying to sleep in alone. It took a stupidly long time for us to realize that him going to sleep here, alone in a bed in a dark room, was a fucking _trigger_. Once we did…” Jack shrugged. “Mark sleeps in my bed. He's gone from a nightmare a night to one nightmare in two weeks. It's purely platonic, don't worry. We're fully dressed and we each have our own side of the bed.” At the outset, at least.

Brown and blue were locked together as the two men refused to break their stare-off. At least in the beginning. Tom’s arms were folded tightly across his chest in disapproval. Jack looked away, tugging at his hair. “I know it's not the healthiest solution, but it lets him sleep, and when he’s rested, he does better. After we've tackled his serious issues, we'll work on that one.”

“I think I’d better talk to Mark about this one.”

 _“_ Yeah, I told Mark you wouldn't be happy about that.” Jack looked back at Tom, flinching barely under the older man's obvious disapproval. _Mark, please come interrupt? I could use some back-up…_ “By all means talk to him. It was his idea, after I accidentally fell asleep on his bed.” It really had started as an accident, and Mark had needed to talk Jack into every new step of their bed-relationship. Jack _loved_ it, but he feared the same things Tom did, that he was manipulating Mark in his vulnerability.

“You were right.” Tom was not letting Jack off the hook. “Even if it was his idea, I _really_ don’t approve of this…. It doesn’t seem like the best alternative. But I’ll see what Mark has to say about it before pushing anything.”

“It helps him. And yeah, it helps me too. When I get a nightmare, it's so much easier to wake up, see him sleeping there and not trapped in that room, and go back to sleep instead of waiting for him to wake up screaming.” Jack scrubbed his hands on his hands, looking away again, well aware that he probably looked shady as all fuck. Damn.

Jack really hoped Mark would be able to convince Tom that what they were doing was relatively harmless. Aside from the thoughts in Jack’s head, it really was, and Jack did everything he could to keep his thoughts to himself, to not let Mark even catch a hint of what his lower half wanted. He shrugged again, a bit helplessly. “Maybe Chica can help. Maybe she’s enough so he doesn’t feel alone in his own room. I hope so. He’s not going to be here forever.”

For the next week, though, Mark was going to be in Jack’s bed because Tom had the guest room, and nothing Tom did or said would be able to change that. Unless he managed to make Mark feel guilty and switch back to this room, curling up beside his brother instead of his friend. Jack almost bristled at the thought. He did _not_ want to share Mark.

...Tom had a good reason to be suspicious.

“So...any other questions?”

Tom’s arms slowly unfolded, and his fingers tapped incessantly at his knees as the tension entered his face again. “What… what do I do if he… if he panics. If he has an attack? I _know_ all the stuff everyone tells you to do. I know the usual causes. But I also know everyone is a unique case and… if I need to help him, I don’t want to make it worse.” Tom looked to Jack again, but now there was pleading in his eyes instead of judgement.

Jack was grateful Tom accepted the change in topic. He sighed, thinking back on all of Mark’s attacks. “If I’m around, I can calm him down. If I’m not…” If Jack was in his recording room, or in town, calling for him wasn’t necessarily the best option. “Every attack is a little bit different. The earlier you can catch one, the easier it is to pull him back. To start with, if he starts tensing up or tells you to stop, you pull away immediately. Stop what you were doing. Stop _touching_ him. If he’s panicking, he’s going to think you’re one of _them_ and will shut down even faster. Talk to him. Just keep up a running commentary of whatever the fuck you can think of. Say his name a lot. Talk soothingly, you can say the same things over and over, like ‘It’s okay, Mark, I’m here, Mark, it’s okay.’ What you’re actually saying probably doesn’t matter all that much. He’ll catch a few things, like his name. Your name, maybe. You don’t really have a distinctive accent--if it’s bad, I go really thick on the Irish because _they_ didn’t sound like that. But, if you know Korean, you can talk to him in that. You can sing to him. It’s kind of…” Jack sliced his hand into the air to show Thomas the different levels of severity. “Talk to him, sing in English, sing in Irish, sing in Korean. Lullabies work really well. So do Irish drinking songs, because he’s _weird_.”

What else helped Mark? Jack ran his hand through his hair again. “If he doesn’t have his glasses on, give them to him. Don’t touch him, just hold them in front of him and keep repeating that he should put them on. If he’s all clenched up, you can put them on him yourself, carefully. He’ll reach for the collar a lot, so maybe get Chica to him? He’s got a stuffed dog we call Chica Junior that helps. But seriously, _don’t touch him._ Even if you think hugging him will help make things better, it won’t. Not until he’s out of the panic and just in the exhausted despair after. You can hold out your hand, palm up,” Jack demonstrated, “where he can see, but let him decide when he’ll touch you. Let him ask for more contact if he feels it’ll help. He’s always most sensitive after an attack.” Jack took a deep breath. “If he’s not responding, if he’s _really_ not responding to anything, not even Chica, then call me no matter what I’m doing or where I am. He hasn’t had an attack that bad since...since the day after we moved into this house. He shouldn’t have another one, but who knows.” Jack shrugged. “Lots of new stimuli. Change is hardest for him, even if it’s good change.”

“Okay… let me see if I can get this straight here….” Tom scratched lightly at his beard for a moment before ticking each suggestion off on his fingers. “No touching unless he initiates or asks for it first. Immediately stop whatever it is we’re doing, ‘cause it probably triggered him. Talk to him non-stop. Use his name a lot… maybe mine, too. Sing to him. I don’t know Irish, but I know some Korean. I remember some of our mom’s lullabies and stuff. Try to give him his glasses. Get Chica for him. And in the worst case scenario, if he’s not responding, get you. That all sound about right?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, that’s it. Most important is to stop touching him and make sure he can’t hurt himself accidentally, because he won’t be seeing what’s around him even with his glasses on. He goes back into that room when he’s in a bad headspace. It’s...it’s pretty terrifying, not gonna lie. No matter how many times you see it. Seeing him like that…”

It had been worse in the hospital, with the beeping monitors and tubes and wires, and Mark so skeletal and oddly dressed in the bland gown. But it was also worse now, with Mark looking healthy and strong again, wearing clothes he used to, doing normal things and then locking up. It was worst all the time, no matter what, to see Mark’s eyes so cold and dead, to know Mark was barely able to hear his voice.

“He’s gotten better,” Jack said. “He’s gotten so much better. And he usually gives off signs before he goes into full panic mode...oh, but sometimes, almost never, but _sometimes_ , he gets violent when he’s panicking. Screams and lashes out, scratches or bites...he hasn’t done that in _months_ , not since he woke up, actually, but he’s terrified of it happening again. I don’t think it will, but if it does, just get away from him. He’d hate himself forever if he knew he hurt you while panicking.”

Tom nodded. “I could probably hold him off if he got violent, but… that might not be the best idea. So I’ll try to keep my distance if he lashes out.” At that moment a hesitant knock came at the door.

It was followed up with a short bark and light scratching. As if it was even a mystery who was behind the door to begin with, Chica’s presence basically confirmed it was Mark. There was a beat or two of silence, and then his voice came at half volume through the thick wood. “Can I come in now? Or are you guys still talking about… stuff?”

Tom looked to Jack, but Jack just gave him an encouraging smile, letting Tom take control of this situation. Tom had been waiting for this moment just as long as Mark. He watched as Tom took a deep breath and braced himself before turning to the door. “Get in here, Mark. You really gonna make me wait another minute?”

The door opened almost instantly. Chica padded in happily first and gave Jack’s knee a sniff in greeting. Then her tongue lolled out and she turned to Tom, sitting between his leg and the bed. Mark trailed after her, toying with the green bracelet on his wrist. Chica still didn’t have her collar.

Jack gave Chica a pat when she came to his knee, but he otherwise remained quiet and still in the desk chair. This was Mark’s chance to reunite with his brother, and Jack wasn’t going to intrude no matter how much he wanted to smack Tom’s arms away from Mark, to protect him from anyone who might wish him harm.

Watching the two brothers was like viewing a pair of animals. Neither really moved, for a handful of time. Tom watched Mark patiently. Mark glanced repeatedly at the other man but kept looking away.

“Hey. _Aga._ You know you’re allowed to come over here, right? I’m not gonna bite you. Though I can give you a hug, if you want.” Tom’s voice was soft and gentle, perfect for calming a skittish Markiplier.

Tom spread his arms, and Mark’s mouth was starting to wobble. “ _Keun._ Tom… Thomas….” Mark’s voice broke, and he shuffled towards his brother.

“I’m here, _namdongsaeng,_ I’m here. Sorry it took so long.”

Mark let loose a hushed sob and closed the remaining distance between them. _“Tom.”_ He practically collapsed into his brother’s welcoming arms. The sob that came next was louder, harsher; Tom gently shushed him.

“Shhh. Shhh, _aga,_ it’s okay. It’s okay, Mark. I’m here. I’m here. _Goyohan, goyohan._ _Goyohan, aga….”_

Mark was mumbling to Tom, and Tom was listening quietly with the faintest hint of a smile on his face. At the Fischbachs’ feet, Chica happily thumped her tail and watched the sweet reunion with more understanding than a lot of people might give a dog credit for.

 _Tom’s his brother. Tom’s not going to hurt him. Calm down._ Tom, at least, was murmuring in Korean to Mark, calling him _baby,_ calling him _little brother_ , murmuring so soft and soothing that Jack knew he had done it before. Of course he had. He was an older brother. Jack knew what older brothers did, when you fell out of a tree and your mother was too far away and you were crying because your arm was all scuffed up and it hurt too much to climb again.

That didn’t really make it easier for Jack to watch. He looked away, tugging on his bracelets and glancing toward Chica. Should he go? He should go, give them some privacy. But Tom wasn’t Chica. Tom could so easily say the wrong thing, touch the wrong place, move too fast, look the wrong way...Tom could set Mark off, and if the first thing he did was trigger his little brother, neither Mark nor Tom would be very happy. Jack should stay and supervise. He should go. He dropped an arm down, rubbing his fingers together in a subtle attempt to at least lure Chica a little closer. If he could focus on the dog, then at least maybe it wouldn’t be quite so obvious that he was just kinda awkwardly... _there_?

It took a bit, but Chica eventually noticed Jack’s efforts. She glanced up at the brothers one more time, debating, but heaved back onto her feet with a soft huff. She padded over to Jack and licked at the offered hand. Bumping her head against the appendage, she plopped down at his feet instead. It didn’t take long for her tail to pick up where it had left off.

Jack rubbed at Chica’s ears, grateful that the dog was such an intelligent, beautiful, amazing creature. _You get forgiven one floor poop or one hole in the wall, no questions asked. But only one._ He rubbed at her neck and back and side, glancing up only occasionally at the brothers just to make sure Mark was still calm. Everything about Mark’s body language seemed okay. He was relaxed in Tom’s arms, and he wasn’t trying to pull back or turn away. That was good. Tom was handling him well. Jack wasn’t upset. He _wasn’t_. This was precisely what they’d wanted, what they’d hoped for, _both_ of them.

Mark snuffled loudly, and Jack looked up again. Tom was...wiping his face? Jack grit his teeth. How the fuck had he gotten so familiar with Mark already…?

 _They’re brothers, numbnuts._ They had twenty-eight years of history. Jack only had a handful of years with Mark, and really only about a month of actual face-to-face interaction with the other man before this whole trauma. Of course Tom would find it easier to get close to Mark. He didn’t need to _convince_ Mark he was trustworthy. Mark already knew that implicitly. And that was why Mark was letting Tom tap him on the face and ask for...something. Jack was trying not to scowl at the surprise on Mark’s face. Mark was not supposed to look surprised over anything that wasn’t Chica back in his life...or _fucking hell_ get a fucking _kiss on the cheek!_

Jack had to look back down at Chica, digging his fingers into her thick fur, sucking his lips between his teeth. _You shouldn’t kiss him, you shouldn’t be that close to him, he’s not_ ** _ready_** _…!_

Except apparently he was, because Tom was chuckling and Jack could hear Mark’s happiness in his voice when he answered Tom’s question about Chica. And not _just_ because of Chica. Tom was making Mark happy too. Tom was making Mark happier in five minutes than Jack had managed to do in five weeks (with the exception of Chica).

Jack wanted to yank Tom away from Mark. He wanted to yank _Mark_ away from Tom. He wanted to get between the two, growl under his breath at the older man, keep Mark safe. _How dare you!_

Chica’s tail thumped against his foot and Jack deflated, leaning down to kiss her golden forehead, right above those big brown eyes. “Good girl, Chica,” he murmured as Mark gushed over Chica’s presence. “Good girl.”

“Of course, if you _really_ wanted to thank me, I believe I was promised a healthy lunch upon arrival….”

Mark sputtered and wormed out of Tom’s arms; stumbling back onto his feet. “Oh _fuck,_ I forgot! Shit. Hey Jack, do me a favor and get out that chicken I cooked last night, would you? I gotta go get the greens from outside. C’mon, Chica! C’mon girl, let’s go outside, let’s see if you gotta go potty. C’mon.” His voice took up a sweeter, babying tone as he tapped at his thighs. Chica was up and trailing after him out the door in a heartbeat; leaving brother and roommate alone once more.

Tom watched Mark go with a calm and content that just oozed from his body language.

Mark pulled Chica away, and Jack was left with just Tom and nothing to occupy his hands. He reached up and tugged at his bracelets again, stretching one of the rubber ones. “So...good job. No triggers.” He found a smile. It felt plastic, but maybe Tom didn’t know him well enough to realize just how fake it was.

Tom turned his small smile on to Jack. A slight furrow entered brow as he went back to lightly gripping his own knees. “Yeah… yeah, he seemed to take it pretty well. Thanks for the warnings.”

“You handled him well.” Jack gave his bracelets one last tug before he stood up, forcing his hand away from his wrist.

“Thanks….” The word ended on a questioning tone, though. Tom watched Jack skeptically. “...are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just...this is the first time we’ve actually _eaten_ anything from the garden.” For someone who valued honesty, Jack was surprised at how easily the lie came to him. “I’m just...kinda scared. He said we were growing pineapple, but isn’t that tropical?”

Tom rose to his feet as well and began working out of the now half-soaked hoodie. “Well, Mark used to help our mom in the garden sometimes. So he’s not entirely clueless. Plus it looks pretty nice out there to me. Maybe you misheard him about the pineapple thing? ‘Cause yeah, I don’t think you could grow those here. Especially not that fast.”

“That’s good to hear,” Jack said. “I was just letting him have at it because he said gardening was therapeutic. He’s the one who wanted to actually grow _edible_ things.” Like pineapple weed? Could you even eat pineapple weed? What _had_ Mark been growing, aside from potatoes?

“It _is_ therapeutic. Or so I've heard. Something about it being methodical and receiving rewards for the effort you put in. I dunno. If it's making Mark happy then he can grow a whole farm if he wants to.”

Wiggling out of the hoodie with a soft grunt, Tom tossed it towards a corner of the bed. He tugged down the hem of his T-shirt and smoothed out his hair before speaking again. “Well, I’m sure it’ll be fine. And if we all get sick we can tease Mark about his brown thumb for the rest of our lives. In any case, I’m so hungry I’m just about willing to eat the grass out there. Should we head to the kitchen?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Jack said. He didn’t care what happened to the garden, so Mark had full reign over aspect of it. He sighed, heading for the door. “Guess I should get the chicken out before he gets upset. I don’t know how long lunch is gonna take. Want something to eat or drink?”

Tom followed Jack out of the room. “Some coffee or caffeinated tea would be _fantastic._ Y’know, so I don't pass out from jet lag? I can wait a bit longer on the food though. Sounds like he's making a salad or something. That _is_ about the extent of Mark’s ‘healthy’ food knowledge.”

Oh. Oh, maybe he should… Jack glanced back at Tom. “We don’t have alcohol in the house. I’d probably be kicked out of Ireland if anyone found out. I just didn’t want Mark to be tempted when he was having a bad day.” And Tom knew all about Mark’s alcohol intolerance. “...and I may have gone borderline alcoholic myself when he was in that room. He...doesn’t know that.” _Please don’t tell him._ “If you wanted some, I’ve got no problem with having it in the house. We had some beers when the lady who cut Mark’s hair came over--we being her and me, not Mark and me. That’s fine. Just wanted to warn you so you know you have to actually buy some before you enjoy.”

“Don't worry about it. I don't have the same intolerance as Mark… maybe. Could still develop it like he did, I suppose. But I don't drink much anyway. I'd say I can go a week or so without a beer...though, if you ever need someone to talk to about that sort of thing….”

“I can put another pot of coffee on. We go through a lot of that here. And the best thing for jet lag, much as it sucks, is to not give in and take a nap. The sooner you can get on the new time zone schedule, the better.” Not that Jack really had too much struggle with jet lag himself. He practically lived on an L.A. schedule anyway, so flying across the ocean only affected him in how much sun was up when he was. It had his community always freaking out about how he didn’t seem to sleep, but that just made him giggle.

With Mark in the house, though, Jack’s schedule was more normal for the time zone. Mark did things like go to bed at night and wake up in the morning to make breakfast. He didn’t stay up until five am answering comments, and while technically Jack _could_...he never bothered anymore. Especially not with Mark waiting in his bed. He actually had a reason to go to sleep at a decent hour, and if he woke up when Mark did, he could indulge in morning cuddles.

Would Mark allow morning cuddles with Thomas around? Jack hoped so. It had become his favorite part of waking up. Thomas wasn’t very keen on the idea of them sharing a bed. If he talked to Mark about it...but their door was closed! How would Thomas even know? Besides, it was _perfectly platonic_. There was nothing _wrong_ with it. Mark wasn’t being manipulated into doing anything he didn’t want. If anything, he had manipulated Jack into it!

It helped Mark. It _helped_ him, and Mark wasn’t so weak-willed that he’d cave to whatever Thomas said. At least this week, Jack would still get to cuddle with his roommate. Mark might want to try cuddling with Chica in a separate bed after Thomas was gone, but...that was something to worry about next week.

Jack got the coffee maker going, pulling some mugs out of the cupboard. “Feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen as long as it’s already open,” he told Thomas. “Even if you finish it off. After tomorrow, you can help yourself to anything. We just have a lot of stuff for Mark’s birthday party, so…” After the party, they could all eat whatever. Jack went to check on the cakes. Still warm. Also filling the house with the delicious smell of freshly baked cake. Yum. Jack resisted the urge to taste-test. He instead moved them so they’d be out of Mark’s way and dug the chicken out of the fridge.

By the time Tom was getting his first sip of coffee, Mark was bounding back into the kitchen with a plastic bag. There was still dirt smudged on his hands and cheeks, but Chica was thankfully clean. “Had to stop her like seven times from rolling around in the dirt.” At Tom’s behest, Mark washed up before getting to work on their lunch. Indeed, Tom had guessed correctly in it being a salad, which he immediately teased Mark for. Mark huffed right back and the brothers shared banter while Mark worked; Jack interjecting and dragging himself into the mess where viable. Tom also used the time to personally update Mark on how their moms were doing and told him they demanded a video chat tomorrow when they got the chance.

About twenty minutes later they were all sitting down to lunch with a happy Chica munching out of her doggy bowl. Seeing that had been tense for Mark at first, but Jack filled it for him and seeing Chica use it dispelled some of the fear. The humans sat down to a chicken salad. Mark smirked at the other two. “And you said I couldn't be healthy. Ha! Wait until you taste the stuff from the garden. It's great.”

Tom shook his head with a smile and shot Jack a sly look. “Is he always like this?”

“He's _your_ brother,” Jack pointed out, poking at all the green stuff with his fork. “If you don't know him by now, I can't help you there. Mark, you're _positive_ this is edible and not poisonous? Because I know you told me this stuff was already growing wild and not something you planted.” Mark was so proud of the salad, though, so Jack swallowed his concerns and stabbed a piece of the pineapple weed. Here goes nothing…

“True, true. Unless he's been tainted by the Irish ways. He _is_ always messing around in your soil.” He tucked in without much fuss and gave a pleased hum at the taste. “That's pretty good actually. Well done, Mark. You've managed to impress me. Now make something healthy that's _not_ a salad and I'll give you full kudos.”

“Crunchy...and a little sweet. If I die from this, Felix gets my Xbox.” The salad really was pretty good. Mark had yet to disappoint Jack with anything he made, even the healthy stuff.

“Oh hardy har har you two. No Jack, it's not poisonous, I told you I've checked several sources. I've even eaten some in the garden before! It's delicious. And goes really good with the peppermint we have back there.” Mark chuckled a bit. He munched happily on his salad and flipped Jack a quick, lighthearted bird. “Well I already have one anyway so nyeh.”

“You are a brave man, Mark Fischbach, and that's all I'm gonna say.” Jack was eating the salad with about as much enthusiasm as he could muster for a salad. It _was_ good, if a bit healthy. Jack liked the chicken too.

Mark preened at Jack’s compliment.

Jack glanced over at Mark, then looked to Thomas. “So, Tom, has Mark told you about tomorrow? Because you don't get a choice. You have to participate. Birthday boy's orders.”

At the mention of the birthday party, the brothers expressed two very different reactions. Mark beamed and shot Tom a mischievous look. Tom, on the other hand, was a mixture of surprise, apprehension and curiosity. He glanced between the two younger men like an adult cornered by a couple of particularly rambunctious children. “He… may have mentioned a party, and a vlog attempt…. Why are you both looking at me like that. What do you two have planned. Should I call the fire department to be on standby? Paramedics? The Irish Air Force?”

“Does the Irish even _have_ an Air Force??” Mark mumbled.

“We are making the biggest shitpost of a party ever, vlogging the whole thing, and you and I get to be _all_ the party guests.” Jack grinned at Tom. “Which means you're gonna be on camera. A _lot_.” He knew how much Mark's brother dragged his feet about showing up in Mark's videos, no matter how much the fans loved it. “We...might want paramedics on standby. Not the air force--which we _do_ have, thank you very much--because they might just carpet-bomb us.”

Mark sputtered a bit into his juice. He pulled back with a soft laugh. “Wipe us off the face of the Earth before we can permanently scar its youth forever. We won't _need_ paramedics, Jack! We all know the basics, right? Heimlich, CPR, bet we could invent some makeshift chest paddles if we had to. Google knows everything!”

“It's really a miracle Ireland has allowed us to survive this long,” Jack said with a solemn nod.

Tom looked about as enthusiastic as Jack did towards his salad. He pressed a hand to the side of his face with a long suffering sigh. “Well, at least I'll be in costume…. You're lucky I love you so much, _‘saekki._ Fine, no paramedics. But you two better have a first aid kit or no party. And there better not be any intense pyrotechnics or knife throwing.”

“Oh Mark. Tom has agreed without even seeing the costumes we've picked out. He must _really_ love you.”

Not that the costumes were all that horrible. Jack and Mark had walked the fine line between ridiculous and what they thought Tom might actually agree to.

The rest of lunch was spent filing Tom in on the plans. Jack took an unpleasant amount of joy in watching Tom's face sink further with every new level of stupid. _Too late to say no…_

Of course, _after_ lunch Jack had to grumble about the dirt everywhere and dig out the hoover again. Just because he liked hoovering when he needed to didn't mean he always wanted to hoover! After chasing Mark out of the kitchen, Jack tucked the hoover away and went back to his cakes to level and stack them, then frost and decorate. He'd never tried using fondant before, but he had promised Mark a Tiny Box Tim cake, so that was what he was gonna do, damn it!

Chica lingered with him, licking up anything he was unfortunate enough to spill on the floor.

Jack had left Mark and Tom to catch up on their own, trusting that Tom was able to handle Mark. He had done everything right in their supervised meeting, after all. Jack didn’t need to watch over everything they did. They were allowed to have some privacy. He slathered strawberry jelly over one of the cakes and tried to be happy for Mark. He was with _Tom_. His _brother._ He’d only been looking forward to this for _weeks_. And Tom was Mark’s _brother._ He wasn’t like Maggie, wasn’t going to be trying to make out with Mark on the sly…

Grumbling to himself, Jack set the second layer on top of the first, lining the sides up as best he could. He dug out a bowl and began mixing up some chocolate buttercream frosting, according to an old family recipe. Mm. Chocolate. Jack stuck a fingerful in his mouth and sucked the sweetness off, but even that didn’t make him smile.

It was fine. Everything would be fine.

**_“SEAN!!!”_ **

Jack had cut out a fondant face and was placing the smile on Tim when Tom suddenly _screamed_ for him, screamed his name loud enough to make Chica jump. Jack _definitely_ jumped, dropping Tim’s smile. What the _fuck_!?

“ ** _SEAN!!!_** _It’s Mark!! Get over here!! Please!!!”_

As Chica fled from the noise, Jack sprinted down the hall, practically ricocheting off the walls. “What, what happened, what’s going on!?” He burst into the room, his own breath catching at the sight of Mark curled up against the bed, in a submissive, dog-like position. “Oh _fuck_...Mark, Mark, it’s okay Mark, it’s okay…” Jack dropped to his knees in front of Mark, all but ignoring Tom in favor of pressing his hands palm-up against the floor, trying to ease closer to Mark without getting too close. “Mark, you’re safe, you’re not in that room, Mark, you’re safe, you’re in Ireland, I’m here, Mark, it’s Jack, I’m here, I’m right here.” He was thickening his Irish as he spoke, calling _Merk_ , trying to bring him back. If this didn’t work, he’d have to start singing. Mark hadn’t had an attack _that_ bad in weeks. What the hell could have triggered this!?

Mark didn’t respond to anything. He stared down at the floor, listlessly, the fingers of one hand still resting numbly on his exposed collar.

“Mark.” Tom shuffled closer until he could kneel beside his brother. He didn’t touch Mark again, but he did try to mimic Jack’s position. He stared at his brother’s still form, the fear obvious in his face. “ _Aga._ Mark. Mark, c’mon. You gotta be able to hear us. Come back to us. We’re right here, both of us. Tom and Jack. You can do it, **_Markimoo._** You can get through this.”

“Mark, please…” Jack trailed off, slowly turning to look at Tom, his blue eyes wide with horror. “What the _fuck_ did you just say!?”

It all made sense. It all made _so_ much sense. Jack spun so quickly he gave his knees rug burn through his jeans, shoving at Tom. “Get away from him! Get away, go get Chica, don’t be _near_ him! You can’t call him that! Fuck! Mark!”

“What-” Tom landed on his ass with a soft grunt. “What the fuck?!” He glared right back at Jack as he pushed himself into a crouch. “The Hell do you mean, ‘get away from him’? He’s my brother! I’m allowed to try and fix this shit! You can’t _force_ me to just leave. Tell me what I did wrong.” The edge in his voice mirrored Jack’s.

No _wonder_ Mark was so locked down. Shit crap fuckballs dicks on a bike ridden by _Christ_ on a cracker to church on a Sunday! Jack fought down his own panic, torn between fighting Tom away from Mark and trying to calm Mark down again. This was absolutely the worst sort of attack Mark could fall into, and of _course_ it would be in front of Tom. Singing was going to be the only thing that might even _maybe_ bring Mark out of his trance. Singing and time and where the fuck were Mark’s glasses…? Jack gave Tom another shove, trying to get him _away_ , because if Tom had been calling him _Markimoo_ , then of course he himself would be triggering Mark in his current state of distorted perception. “Merk, Merk, ye’r _safe_ , ye’r safe, Merk, ye’r home…”

Tom caught himself with his palms. Furious and confused, Tom shoved Jack back out of reflex. “Stop fucking shoving me! That’s _my brother_ you’re talking to.” His fists were clenched, but his eyes saddened when he looked back to Mark. He rounded on Jack. “What’s wrong with him?! Should we call somebody?? He’s practically catatonic, I don’t understand what happened. I tried calling him names he liked-”

“I said use his _name_ , not his nickname! Not _that_ nickname!” Jack clenched his own hands into fists, trying to bodily put himself between Tom and Mark. “That’s what _they_ called him! That’s all they called him! No fucking wonder he thinks he’s back in that room, and he thinks _you’re_ one of _them_! _Why the fuck aren’t you getting Chica!?_ ” Chica was doggy and furry and everything that Mark didn’t have in that room. Jack would get her himself if he wasn’t terrified of leaving Mark alone in this state. “Go get Chica! Go! And if you can’t find her, get the stuffed dog off my bed! _GO!_ ”

Tom stared at Jack as if the Irishman had suddenly grown an extra head. “What do you mean, ‘that’s all they called him’? What? **_Marki-_** ” He bit his tongue and glanced at Mark. No response, but Mark wasn’t really responding to much of anything at the moment. Guilt was slowly overpowering Tom’s anger. “I… I didn’t know…. I didn’t know they’d called him… anything, I….”

Jack hadn’t even _mentioned_ Markimoo to Thomas. It has been so taboo to him that it actually completely slipped his mind. Jack had triggered this reaction once himself, just once, that first week in the hospital. It had been so traumatizing that even when the nickname tried to slip out during a jest, he was able to bite it back. He hadn’t thought anyone else would use the nickname...but of course they would. None of them knew. None of them heard the audio or had Mark tell them himself, in halting, broken sentences, with more implied than actually said.

“...I’m sorry….” Tom shuffled out of the room. Faintly, he could be heard whistling and calling for Chica.

There were tears pricking at Jack’s eyes and he turned away from Tom before he started crying. “Merk, I’m here, it’s Jack, I’m here…”

Mark visibly pulled away when Jack spoke again, even more tense now than he was before. He shifted away with a whimper, his eyes focused on the area beneath the bed. He didn’t look at Jack. Shitballs. This was bad, very bad. Korean-lullaby bad.

Grateful that Thomas wasn’t there to witness Jack’s reedy singing voice, he stayed where he was, stretching his hands toward Mark again, singing Mark’s favorite lullabies softly. At the end of each lullaby, Jack called to Mark, called his name, told him he was safe, before starting again. It was easier to keep singing once he’d started, even if Tom came back in. He was a professional entertainer, after all...and Mark needed it. Mark needed _him_ , because Tom fucked things up and _broke_ him and only Jack could bring him back from the brink.

Maybe.

He hoped.

 _God_ he hoped.

Mark slowly stopped trying to wiggle away. Around the time Chica came padding into the bedroom, Mark started looking at Jack again. Tom didn’t come with her.

The startled but obviously concerned golden retriever went straight to Mark without even a lick of hesitation. Unable to plop into his lap like she wanted, Chica contented herself to sit beside him on the floor. Panting softly, she rested her fuzzy bulk up against him. For a moment, bigger and more alert brown eyes looked to Jack. Then she was giving a quiet whine and turning her head to nudge a cold, wet nose at Mark’s cheek. Chica whined again, gave a little yip, and licked at the spot. Mark’s fingers twitched. His eyes stayed on Jack, but his arms wrapped around Chica. Mark leaned against his dog’s side, tilting his head to rest his cheek against her ears. Chica gave a happy bark and licked at his arm some more; tail thumping. An undetermined amount of time later, Mark gave a single sniffle, then turned to bury his face in her fur. Chica whined and tucked her muzzle over top of his head protectively.

Jack’s experience with Mark let him spot the tiny tells that Mark was relaxing, that the singing was working. He kept it up, even after Chica came in. To his relief, she actually did seem to help. Jack had suspected she would, but a tiny niggling worry in the back of his head had whispered that the presence of an actual dog might trigger Mark further.

He hadn’t needed to worry. Too many songs later, Mark was finally looking alert again (if by alert, Jack meant actively hiding). He wasn’t hiding his _body_ , just his face, which meant that his mind was returning. Body-hiding, such as trying to get under the bed, meant Mark was scared of being hurt. Face-hiding meant he was ashamed or embarrassed or overwhelmed, all of which required Mark to realize he had an audience not trying to hurt him.

“Mark?” Jack tried again, calling softly when he’d finished the lullaby. “Mark, are you back with me? Mark?”

There was another muffled sniffle, and Mark attempted to burrow himself deeper into Chica’s fur. Chica released a loud, open-mouthed whine that morphed into a slight yowl at the end; clearly directed towards Mark. She huffed against his dark hair and then nuzzled at the back of his head and neck with her face. He shuddered, squeezed at her, and then gave the shakiest nod he could muster.

“Want some tissues?” Jack asked, sagging in relief at Mark’s nod. “Want your glasses?” He looked around, finding them discarded on the floor. What the hell had happened? “Want some tea?” Jack reached over to snag the glasses, folding them up and pushing them toward Mark. “Your glasses are near your left knee, Mark. You can put them on if you want. You’re safe here.”

Mark gave a single nod to each of Jack’s offers. It took a clear effort for him to remove an arm from Chica’s bulk. Mark patted around blindly for his glasses while she panted. Upon finding them, Mark dragged the spectacles around the dog to where his face was hidden. He let his hips turn so his legs could flop against the dog as well.

Thank god for Chica. She was behaving even more perfectly than a service dog would, knowing her human so well. _Good girl, Chica. You get a free pass on_ ** _two_** _floor poops or wall chews._ “Tom left the room. It’s just us, Mark.”

Jack crawled to the bedside table to snag the tissue box, not yet daring to stand up around Mark. He crawled back to Mark’s side, setting the box where he had put Mark’s glasses. “Tissues are near your knee too.”

“...don’t be mad at Tom….”

It was quiet and passive, but it was still Mark’s voice. Jack closed his eyes at Mark’s request, taking a deep breath. “Mark…” Jack _was_ mad at Tom, but at the same time, not really. “Mark, I’m more mad at myself, really. I didn’t warn him about the name. It completely slipped my mind. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Mark found the tissues faster than his glasses. Snagging a couple, he repeated the same process as before. Brought them around behind Chica so he could keep hiding. The sound of sniffles and a blown nose couldn't be missed, though. “I-it’s okay. It's okay. H-he didn't mean it. It's okay.”

“He had no way of knowing...and he did call for help. He did get Chica for you. I’m so fucking glad we got her here.” Without Chica, it might have taken an hour for Jack’s singing to break through Mark’s defenses. With her, Mark was able to have physical contact from reality that didn’t trigger him further. “I’ll...I’ll talk to Tom. Apologize for yelling at him. I was just...I was scared. This was a bad one.” Not that he needed to tell Mark that. Mark knew.

Chica gave a soft little borf and Mark nodded into her fur. “Me too.” Her tail wagged with pride. She did a good. She let Mark stay tucked into her as he cleaned up his face. “...he’ll apologize t-too. Tell him I forgive him. Please. I can't… I d-don’t know if I can go out there right now.” Chica licked comfortingly at his shoulder.

“That's okay,” Jack said, still talking softly, soothingly. “Do you want to stay in here? Or would you like to move to the other room, curl up with Chica and Chica Junior in our bed? I can bring you some tea wherever.” He didn't try to reach out for Mark, not even to offer his hand, much as he wanted to. Chica was occupying all of Mark’s capacity for touch. At least he didn't get jealous of her the way he had been of Tom. If he got jealous of a _dog,_ he'd be in a bad way.

Mark thought for a moment. “...yeah. Yeah, I… I wanna move. I'll go over there when you leave, okay? With Chica. Just… bring the tea whenever it's ready, please.”

Before Jack could leave, Mark spoke again. “...I got really scared when you two started arguing, I…. I don't really remember it, but I know I was scared. I wanted to crawl under the bed. They… they argued a lot… a-about me… over me…. It was too much.”

Jack winced when Mark explained a new trigger, one that had never come up before because it had always just been Jack and Jack alone. “I'm sorry, Mark. I didn't even think...I've done way too much not thinking today. I'm sorry. I'll do better. And I'll let Tom know too. This won't happen again.” He closed his eyes and fidgeted with his bracelets. “Do you...when I get your tea, would you like him to come back too? Or would that be too much right now?”

Mark began stroking at Chica’s golden fur. His voice had evened out by now but it was still a whisper. “It's okay. You didn't know. He didn't know...tell him… tell him I'm sorry, I just… I don't think it'd be a good idea to see him right now. He's too unfamiliar, I'm sorry, please tell him I'm so sorry….” Mark’s voice cracked and he'd gone back to burying his face into Chica’s fur. She whined.

“Okay.” _Give Mark choices and respect his decisions._ As much as Jack wanted to stay with Mark, help him to his feet, give him a hug… “Okay. Are you going to want me to sit with you, or just bring you the tea and leave you on your own?” Talking to Thomas would probably take longer than boiling the kettle. Jack pushed himself to his feet, backing away from the sorry lump of Mark and Chica curled together on the floor. He brushed the edge of his sleeve over his eyes and took a deep breath. It was okay. Mark had come out of a deep panic so much faster than he ever had before, thanks to Chica. It was okay. Mark was going to be okay.

There was another pause of silence as Mark considered the new question. Eventually, he shrugged a bit helplessly. “Ask me… ask me when you bring it. I dunno if I'll feel any different by then.”

“Okay,” Jack repeated. “Give me ten minutes.” He slipped out of the bedroom and down the hall much more slowly than when he came in. The floorboards creaked beneath his weight, and he sighed. Tom was going to be a mess.

Sure enough, when he found Tom sitting at the dining room table, hunched forward with his hands in front of his mouth and tear stains on his cheeks, the guilt and worry were obvious in the older man’s face. Jack met his eyes for a moment before he sighed. “He'll be fine. He's out of the worst of it. Now he just needs to finish beating himself up for scaring us. He's sorry, but he's not really ready for human interaction, not even from us. I'm making him some tea, and then we’ll just leave him with Chica until he's feeling stronger.”

Tom immediately looked up at Jack as he spoke, slumping in relief. His expression was resigned as he gave a nod to show he understood.

Jack moved past Tom to enter the kitchen, moving methodically through the tea-making ritual, clattering mugs and spoons automatically. He hesitated filling the kettle and glanced back at Tom. “Would you like some?”

Tom turned to peer into the kitchen with a visible frown. Not bothering to conceal his apprehension, his fingers tapped out a fidgeting rhythm against the tabletop. “I… guess…. Thanks.”

Jack set three mugs out, dropping tea bags into each. He stared at them for a minute, then looked back at Tom. “He’s not healed. He’s nowhere near healed. He’s _better_ , but he’s not _fixed_. And you have to understand, what we’ve been showing you in the calls, the pictures and tweets he makes, the audio recordings...it’s all what we have _chosen_ to share. This stuff, the attacks, the panic, the fucking _scars_ that are more than physical...we hide it. We hide it because it hurts him, so, _so_ much to let people he loves see him like that. We hide it because he needs the world to think he’s okay if he has any chance of ever _being_ okay. The rules I gave you...they’re not to make things harder on you. They’re to make his life even a little bit liveable.” Jack wasn’t angry at Tom anymore. His anger had disappeared, leaving him with a bone-deep weariness that was a familiar companion these days.

“I’m realizing that, thanks.” There was no bitterness or edge to the words. Just Tom stating a fact.

“That being said...this isn’t normal either. Yeah, we haven’t managed to go a week without an attack yet, but this one was definitely worse than normal. There’s...I’m sure it wasn’t just you. Whenever there’s a really big change, he usually has a bad one within twenty-four hours. We threw a lot at him. And...I’m sorry. I’m sorry I forgot about Marki…” Jack couldn’t even say it with Mark safely out of earshot. He grimaced, closing his eyes. “About _that_ name. It always, _always_ triggers a mega attack and I...when I last used it, it pretty much traumatized me all over again, so it’s just been so taboo in this house I didn’t even think of it as a rule to warn you about, it just _wasn’t done_. And that was a pretty hefty--and stupid--assumption for me to make, and I’m sorry. Don’t use that name ever again. Make sure his moms know. I don’t know if we’ll ever manage to reclaim it for him.”

Jack stopped to take a deep breath, then opened his eyes to look at Tom. “Milk and sugar?”

Tom’s eyes were back on the ground as he picked at his nails. “You laid out the rules about as plainly as you could without writing them down, and I still broke several. Just a few hours later. I can understand why both of you are so enthusiastic about him being ‘stuck’ here in Ireland now.”

Tom’s eyes were dark with negative emotions. “Maybe you didn’t tell me about the nickname. It wouldn’t have mattered if I didn’t trigger him in the first place. If I didn’t push him too far, completely forgetting that he’s different now. That we can’t just start to argue and then hug it out afterwards. I shouldn’t have made so many assumptions. I should’ve listened to him when he told me to stop, I should have…” He sighed and closed his eyes; the skin on his hands bone white from the pressure he was applying as he pressed his hands together. “...I should have trusted you. _Both_ of you. That you know what’s best; for each other, and _especially_ for Mark. He’s not just my wild, crazy, irritating little brother anymore. There are all these new facets to him I’ve never seen. Things I don’t understand. I _always_ understood Mark. That was our thing. We got each other, no matter how stupid or silly things got. But now, he’s… it feels like he’s out of reach, and I don’t know how to bring him back, I don’t…”

Tom opened his eyes to look at Jack. In that moment, even with long locks and facial hair and such a _mature_ air about him, the brown eyes honed in on Jack looked exactly like Mark’s. The emotion in them was crystal clear; true windows to the soul; a soul that mirrored its brother. “...but you _do._ And I’m sorry for doubting that.”

“Yeah, Ireland’s just about the best possible place he could’ve ended up,” Jack said. “There aren’t too many fans here--I’m going by my community, because if you know one of us, you tend to know both of us--and the ones that are are pretty chill about it by now. It’s not likely he’ll be recognized on the street, so he can hide. I mean...everybody here _knows_ who he is, because of the damn news coverage, but it was long enough ago that probably nobody really remembers or cares. Anywhere in America…” Jack shook his head. _Everywhere_ in America, they got recognized. Maybe it was just because Jack only really went there for conventions, but the fan concentration was definitely higher over there. “And he’s got me here. One of his friends. He doesn’t really have a big international group of friends. Felix maybe would’ve been okay, or Yamimash, but they both have girlfriends and, you know…” Jack glanced around his house and huffed under his breath. “A _life_.”

Jack rubbed at his eyes, leaning back against the counter. “Don’t get me wrong, Tom. I _want_ him to go home. I _want_ him to have his life back. But when he’s ready. Until then, I can protect him here. I can be the buffer he needs while his soul is too raw to face the world, and that’s not...I know, I _know_ it’s fucking unhealthy for his world to be boiled down to basically one person. I’m so fucking terrified of him developing some sort of...I dunno, Stockholm Syndrome or something. But it’s not just the _best_ option we have, it’s the _only_ option. Mark is so much more stable now. If he were...if he were in the States, I’d be willing to bet money that we wouldn’t have him at _all_ anymore.” _He’d’ve killed himself,_ Jack didn’t say, but he willed Tom to understand. _He’s_ ** _broken_** _._

“I know….”

“I don’t really know how to bring him back,” Jack admitted, his fingers twisting into his bracelets. “Trial and error. I know what doesn’t work at all, and what seems to work. I guess a lot. Like Chica. She did most of the work this time. I...I made things worse actually, by yelling at you. That’s what _they_ did...he told you to stop?” Jack lifted his eyes to look at Tom, finally registering what the older man had said. “He told you to _stop_ and you _didn’t_...Tom, what the _fuck_!? What part of his torture do you think they’d stop if he asked?” Jack stretched one of his bracelets out, letting it snap back against his wrist as his anger flared up again.

He was too tired for this. Jack groaned, leaning back and letting his head bang against the upper cupboard. “You’re an idiot, Thomas Fischbach. But then again, I do know your brother. It’s not surprising. Mark’s not mad at you. Mark asked _me_ not to be mad at you. But just...don’t do it again. Don’t _ever_ do it again, not while you’re here. He needs to know he’s safe. That if we do upset him, we’ll stop. He needs that to be an unshakable truth in his life. He knows we’re human and screw up, but he needs to know he can control it.”

Tom’s wince was significant; almost a full body cringe. But Tom didn’t shy away from the brief heat of Jack’s words. He ducked his head; ashamed. “Clearly, you _still_ know more than I do. And are better at handling him. I know I fucked up. Trust me, after seeing that… after seeing him so… _I get it._ I know. I’m sorry.”

He pressed his face into his hands and hunched over; elbows resting on his knees. “He’s the one who needs to hear it. Even if he won’t accept it, because he’s a giant idiot. Of course he’s not mad at me. Of course he asked you… God _fuck,_ Mark, I’m sorry….”

The kettle clicked off, and Jack pushed away from the counter with a groan, pouring three mugs of tea. He placed one in front of Tom, then went back to mix up his and Mark’s. “There’s nothing for me to say that you don’t already know. Just...it’s very exhausting to deal with him these days, but you _have to_. For his sake.” Jack fished out the teabags and dropped the spoon in the sink. “I’m going to take this to Mark now. If he wants me to stay with him, I’ll stay with him. Otherwise, I’ll come back and you can ask whatever you want again. Round two, now that you actually know the truth of things. Sugar’s by the kettle, milk’s in the fridge. Help yourself.”

Jack gathered up the mugs and headed for his room. It was the middle of the day, but Jack still treated it like one of their midnight tea breaks, letting his feet fall heavily on the creaky floorboards, knocking at the door and calling to Mark even though it was his own room. “Mark? You ready for your tea?”

“Oh. Uh. Yeah. Yeah, come in.”

Mark was sounding more like himself. Jack pushed the door open and came inside, smiling immediately at the sight of Mark and his dog curled up in bed together. In _his_ bed. This was his life. “Hey there. Feeling better?” Jack sat on the edge of the bed, passing off Mark’s mug over Chica without letting the dog stick her nose in it as Mark made grabby hands.

“Tom’s sorry.” Jack stayed seated, lifting his mug for a little sip, watching Mark. “You two are gonna have to talk again. Maybe not behind closed doors this time. He told me a little bit about what happened.” About how much of an _idiot_ he had been.

Mark nodded and eagerly accepted the steaming mug. He adjusted his position again so his chin was resting on Chica instead; allowing him to blow gently on the surface of the piping hot tea. Chica, to her credit, was sniffing rather avidly in their direction but made no move to start squirming or get up. Mark didn’t respond verbally to Jack until he’d taken a few sips of his own. “...we were both stupid. He’s probably killing himself over it.” Mark stared down into his tea. “We’ll talk. I know we have to. I’m not gonna leave him to his own devices like that, I just… needed some time.”

“I talked to him a bit,” Jack said. “The two of you are so alike in your idiocy and self-flagellation.” He sighed dramatically into his tea, but he gave Mark a little smile over the rim of his mug to let him know he was teasing (mostly). “Guess that’s why I like him already.”

Jack _did_ like Tom, despite Tom triggering a panic attack in Mark. It was going to happen eventually, and at least it happened fairly early on, so Tom had time to mend his relationship with his brother and Jack could know that Tom knew better now. The older man had been a great support over the past few months, and Jack had talked regularly with him to keep him up-to-date on Mark’s recovery.

“That’s brothers for you. I learned from the best. I’m… glad you like him, though. Even after what happened.”

“You’ll have to meet my brothers someday. Just to make it fair.” Jack sipped at his tea, taking a deep breath. “Want me to stay here, or do you still want to be alone?”

Jack did reach out to scratch Chica behind the ears again when she looked back at him. Was this going to be something he’d have to get used to? “I suppose if Chica’s joining us in our bed, she’d be a more effective wall than the pillows. I’d probably cling to her, since she’s soft and warm.” And then he wouldn’t cling to Mark, and Chica wouldn’t understand enough to be scared if Jack woke up with some morning wood. Of course, it did mean Jack wouldn’t wake up with Mark in his arms ever again...but maybe that was for the best. Even if it did mean dog fur in their sheets.

“You can stay.” Mark wiggled to nestle deeper into the mound of gold fur that was Chica’s body. She gave another huff in response, the quietest of woofs, and rested her head back against a pillow. “I needed Chica here like this, right now. But she’s not gonna have to sleep with us. She can go in her crate, like she’s supposed to. You seem to be enough to keep the nightmares away. And you won’t lick my face off at six in the morning.”

Jack toed off his shoes and shifted onto the bed properly, leaning up against the pillows on the side that was nominally _his_. He would have protested against Mark dismissing Chica in their bed at night if Mark hadn’t said it so _easily_ , like it really wasn’t a big deal. Mark really did prefer cuddling with Jack? This time, Jack’s smile was angled into his tea, small and sweet. God, he was stupidly in love with this man. That wasn’t good. His smile faltered, and he closed his eyes to take another sip. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. “What set you off?”

Chica gave a brief wag of her tail. She was probably getting restless, but she was a good dog. She wouldn’t move until Mark was ready. Mark rewarded her with a few slow, steady strokes along her side. “...if you get mad at Tom, I want you to take care of it here.”

Mark looked at Jack. Chica gave another huff. “I want to talk to you, but I don’t want you to go after him. He didn’t mean any of it. I know you say you’re okay with him now but you don’t know everything that happened yet. I don’t want one mistake to start something between you two. Not because of me.”

Mark’s request was easier than he probably thought. Jack had already gotten mad at Tom twice today, and he had already cooled off. He wasn’t like Mark, to rage himself into a frenzy. His rages tended to end in laughter (though lately, they just ended in fatigue). “I know what he called you, and I know he didn’t stop when you asked him to. Honestly, I think that last one is probably one of the worst offenses he could possibly have done, so...if you agree with me, then I won’t go after him. I’ve already smacked him verbally for that one.” Jack turned his head to look solemnly at Mark. “ _Did_ he do something worse?” Was there even something worse Tom could have done? Short of actually hitting Mark or molesting him (which Jack seriously doubted Tom was capable of), not respecting Mark’s need for something to stop was about the height of heinous acts in Jack’s mind. Even the nickname wasn’t that bad, especially considering Tom didn’t know the nickname was a problem to begin with.

Mark’s gaze dropped back to his tea once more. When he spoke, it was as quiet as ever. His eyes never trailed from his tea; never glanced back up to Jack. “You’re right. He should’ve listened when I asked him to stop. We could have avoided all of this, but I’m not holding it against him. It was a mistake. He knows he was wrong, and he’s going to try doing better next time. That’s what matters.”

Silently, he brought his free hand around to thumb at the collar still exposed around his neck. His own expression dipped into something a little more solemn. “...I’m not saying it’s worse. But he pointed out the collar. _Before_ I told him about it. Before I could consider showing him… he knew. And he called me out about it, because he was trying to prove his argument. And… and that’s what set me off, Jack. The shock of him knowing and using it against me _exactly_ the way I knew other people would. I don’t want to accuse you of anything, Jack. I know if… if you told him, it was because you were just looking out for me. He probably pressured you. I _understand._ But… but he still knew. And I didn’t tell him.”

Tom mentioned the collar? Tom mentioned the collar _specifically after Jack asked him not to?_ Jack grit his teeth, grimacing at his tea for a moment, but then he sighed. He dug in his pocket, pulling out Chica’s collar, the replacement that Tyler had bought her. It was black and had paw prints on it. “I took this off Chica before I crated her,” he said, offering it Mark. “I...I was hoping with her here, and needing a collar, you’d be able to...give it back. He saw, and he asked me about it. I didn’t want to lie to him. I figured it would be worse if he found out accidentally, or brought it up not knowing...but I _told_ him it kept you grounded. I didn’t ask him to try to turn you against it.” Jack turned quickly to Mark, needing to make sure Mark didn’t think Jack had plotted with Tom to trigger a panic attack (unintentionally).

Chica, who’d been dozing, perked back up at the sound of her name. She recognized the collar Mark was accepting from Jack and whined curiously. She wasn’t used to not having a collar and figured it was time to put one back on. But it must have been confusing, seeing as Mark was clearly wearing her old one. She huffed and twisted to sniff in Mark’s direction. Mark looked between the collar he was feeling out with his fingers and Chica several times. He looked thoughtful.

“If you’re not ready, then you’re not ready. I mean, you know I hate it, but I also understand. And if you’re really not ready, then Chica can wear this collar. She does need _something_ , at least before we take her on a walk, but it doesn’t have to be the pink one. I’ll...I can talk to Tom again, if you’d like. Remind him that it’s not a topic he’s allowed to have a say in.”

“...I noticed she didn’t have her collar, but… I don’t know. I didn’t think about it much. I was too busy being happy.” Mark set the new collar down on the bed. Chica’s head tilted. “...I thought about it. Before I came to the bedroom. About giving her collar back. But… but I cou… I didn’t want to.” His hand returned to the pink collar so he could rub the tag between his fingers. “I know you hate it. Tom hates it. _Everyone_ would hate it. I don’t blame you for trying to give me an opportunity. And I’m not surprised Tom called you out on it. I _still_ wish I’d been the one to tell him, if I did at all, but… I can’t be mad at you. You were only trying to help- _both_ of you.

“I don’t think you’ll need to remind him. I think what he saw was enough. I think he gets it now. I just wish it would’ve happened in a better way….” Mark gripped at the collar and closed his eyes. Chica, bewildered but mostly ignored, had laid her head back down. “...I’m scared. I’m scared of giving Chica her collar back, and not having that lifeline anymore. It’s practically an extension of my body, Jack. I feel _naked_ without it. I start getting irritated and itchy and I don’t know if Chica being here, if her actual presence, will be enough.”

“Chica Junior wore the collar when Maggie was here, and you did okay,” Jack pointed out quietly. “If Chica’s wearing it...she stays close to you anyway. It’ll still be _there_ if you need to reach out for it...and it’s not like you can’t take it back if you can’t handle it. We have an extra. Even if it’s just...just in small increments, like an hour a day, or at night, or just when she goes on a walk...it’ll probably confuse the hell out of her, but she’ll get over it. And it could help you too. But don’t...don’t feel like I’m forcing you.” Jack curled both his hands around his mug, focusing on the warm drink. “Like I said, if you’re not ready, _you’re not ready_. It’s your choice. I wouldn’t dream of making it for you.”

He huffed a little against the rim and shook his head. “Nah, that’s a lie. I’d absolutely dream of making it for you. But it’s not my choice to make, so I’d never actually do it. I will only offer you an opportunity and my support, whichever way you choose.”

“...tonight.” Mark licked his lips and glanced up at Jack from across the bed. “I’ll try… tonight. Before bed. I’ll give her the collar back, and try getting through the night. It’ll be easier if I’m sleeping. If my mind isn’t constantly wandering back to it. If it’s a problem… then I’ll take it back. But I want to try. I _want_ to get better, Jack. I do. Getting better is just… hard, sometimes. _Really_ hard.”

“Baby steps,” Jack said, reaching over with one hand to pat Chica’s side. “Healing always comes slowly and painfully. But letting her have the collar back tonight is a good first step. And she’ll probably appreciate that. One of your pillows is still in her crate, but I’m sure that collar smells a lot like you too. She’ll probably be very confused with the new location and everything. Having your scent around her might help her feel more grounded here, and less worried about losing you again.”

Jack turned a small smile to Mark, still stroking his fingers through golden fur. “And if you need to get it back in the middle of the night...well, you know where it’ll be.”

Mark scoffed at that; but he was clearly amused. “Yeah. Baby steps….” He watched Chica respond eagerly to Jack’s hand with a small smile. She wasted no time in twisting around again so she could coat the poor appendage with her doggy spit. “My poor Chica-bica, so lost without her daddy. It’s okay Chica. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here now.” His voice was tender and soothing as he pushed himself up with a slight wince.

Rubbing gingerly at his abdomen, Mark sat back on his knees beside Chica. She immediately rolled over onto her stomach but continued to watch him with a little, excited yip. He sighed. “Okay, let’s at least get this collar back on you. You’ve been a really good girl about it, Chica. Good little pupperschnupp. Who’s daddy’s wittle pupper, huh? _You are._ Yes, you are!” Mark’s tone became babying in the way one’s always did when addressing animals or young children. Chica’s response was instantaneous.

She gave a loud, happy bark and started viciously thumping her tail against the bed. Mark beamed at her and set his nearly empty mug on the bedside table. “Who’s my good girl? Who’s my good girl, Chica?” Another bark; Mark had her full attention now. He picked up the new collar and reached to secure it around Chica’s fluffy neck. She didn’t kick up a fuss as he checked the tightness. Just affectionately licked at his wrist and nudged his fingers with her head until he conceded to give her scratches. “Spoiled little pup.”

Jack wiped his hand off on Chica’s fur once her attention was back on Mark before closing it around his mug again and finishing his tea. He had to grin as Mark cooed over his dog. That was a familiar tone from every time he had gone to visit Mark. Chica was Mark’s baby girl, no matter how big and furry she was. The number of times Jack had pretended this was what Mark was doing, on the other side of the world, instead of being trapped in that room…

“She’s got a good daddy,” Jack said. “The best a pup could hope for. Lucky girl.”

Jack sat up as well, nodding toward Mark’s mug. “Done with that? I was just about finished with Tim, but I did kinda leave him out. Since I’m going to the kitchen anyway, I’ll actually take the mugs this time.” And not leave them in the hall for Tom to trip over or raise an eyebrow at…

“Yeah. Yeah, I am, uh… just… give me a bit longer, okay? I’ll be out soon. Promise. You can tell Tom that too. I know he’s probably out there worried sick about me….”  Mark watched Jack get up. “And… thanks. For helping me come back again, and for not going off on Tom….”

“Anything you need,” Jack said, smiling warmly at his roommate. “You know that. And Tom…” He sighed, but remained smiling. “He’s _your_ brother. Of course he’s gonna be an idiot. It’s not like I reacted perfectly the first dozen times I started triggering you anyway. I won’t go off on him, no matter how he fucks up. Promise. You get some rest.”

Mugs in hand, Jack got up and left the room as Mark thanked him again. He closed the door behind him, trusting that Mark wouldn’t let Chica destroy the room while supervised, and returned back to the kitchen. He glanced over at Tom as he carried the mugs to the sink. “He’s doing much better now. He’ll be out soon, but needs some more doggy cuddles first. How are you doing?” Teatime talks with Mark always worked to soothe Jack’s emotional exhaustion. He was in a bit better state to handle Tom’s crisis. These Fischbachs, though. They were gonna be the death of him.

Tom didn’t look _quite_ as depressed or distressed as before, but he wasn’t remotely near the state he’d been in before everything went to Hell. His own empty mug was already in the sink. One elbow was pressed into the table so he could rest his forehead on the palm of his hand. His other arm was flopped rather listlessly across his lap as he sat sideways in the chair. He looked up though when Jack spoke and showed some relief at the good news. It didn’t get rid of Tom’s tension. Or the tightness in the lines of his face as he looked back down into his lap. His fingertips traced nonsensical patterns into his pants. “Fine. Appreciate the thought, but you don’t need to worry about me. Mark needs it way more.” His tone was dull; the response was about as robotic as one could get. He scribbled out the invisible drawing with his finger. “You?”

“Oh god, the broody self-sacrificing is genetic too.” Jack rolled his eyes as he dropped the mugs in the sink and washed his hands.

Tom snorted. “I take offense to that.”

“Tom, how the fuck do you think Mark’s gonna feel when he comes out here and sees you looking like your bunny just died?”  


“I don’t even have a bunny….” Tom mumbled.

“I’m finishing up Tim. You’re gonna talk. You’re gonna tell me how you’re eaten up with guilt. How you can’t believe you _triggered_ him; you were just trying to help. You’re gonna tell me about the horror you’re feeling, the disbelief that _that_ is the reality of Mark Fischbach, and you’re gonna do all this while I finish up Tiny Box Tim and nod attentively because I know _exactly_ how that feels and it’s not something that goes away.”

Jack dried his hands off thoroughly and turned back to the cake. Maybe he could salvage Tim’s smile. He wouldn’t give up yet. “But you’re gonna get as much of the negative out as you can right now, because Mark can’t handle being your emotional support and you know damn well he’s gonna try as soon as he sees you’re upset.” He picked up a butter knife and delicately nudged the fondant smile into place. “And no, this isn’t how I handle Mark’s breakdowns. I have a feeling you’re not _quite_ as fragile, and I don’t have the patience to be a saint for _two_ stupid Fischbachs.”

Tom sighed. “Keep it up and I’m gonna start thinking you’re _legitimately_ insulting us.” Expression remaining sullen, Tom shifted his posture to press knuckles into his cheek instead. This allowed him to peek into the kitchen where Jack was working. “You’ve already ticked off all the major points. If you know what I’m going through, then why have me talk about it? I get it, ‘venting’, well baring my soul isn’t going to change what happened. Verbally acknowledging what I did isn’t going to stop me from regretting it.”

“Me knowing how you feel and you knowing how you feel are different things,” Jack said. “ _I_ know how you feel, but until you’ve really talked about it, it’s hard to understand how fucked up your emotions are. If you don’t have a therapist yourself already, I _highly_ recommend you get one as soon as you’re back. Even if you don’t need regular visits like we do...it’ll help.” Jack smoothed the knife over the frosting to fix the imperfections caused by the misplaced mouth. Okay. _Okay_. This was looking pretty good. What did Tim’s arms look like again? Jack looked around for the reference picture he’d printed out earlier. Okay.

Tom frowned. “I don’t have a therapist.” He ducked his head. “...I’ll look into it when I get back.

“Mark’s going to know I’m upset. He probably already does.” Tom sent Jack a look; daring him to say otherwise. “We’re brothers. We know when we need each other. And usually, we know each other’s limits, but clearly I underestimated the new ones you’d set for me. It just… it just felt like any other argument. Where he didn’t want to listen, even though I was just trying to make his life better. I didn’t think… that’s just it. I _didn’t_ think, and nothing I did made the situation anything but worse. But Mark’s still going to forgive me, for all of it, because he never puts himself first enough. God damn idiot.” Tom’s hand had dropped down into his lap to join its twin and he proceeded to wring them together as an outlet for his discomfort.

“Of course Mark’s gonna know you’re upset, and he’s gonna apologize and try to make it up to you. Because he’s Mark, and you’re the most important person in his world, bar none. All that means is that we need to take extra care to put him first. Which means we never get to be stupid and thoughtless around him. And yeah, it’s fucking _exhausting_. If you’ve seen any of my videos, you’d know that stupid and thoughtless is sorta my default setting. But Mark is worth it. And maybe...maybe the more we treat him like that, the more he’ll actually believe it.”

Tom hunched forward until his forehead was practically touching his clasped hands and exhaled shakily. “I don’t want to make him any worse. I’ve done more than enough of that for a lifetime. I want to help him feel better. _Get_ better. But now I just feel like I’m going to fuck up again and set him off. That I won’t think, or I’ll do something I shouldn’t, or I’ll try to help and won’t _realize_ I’m doing the opposite. He’s my _little brother._ I’m _supposed_ to look out for him. Always. I’m supposed to be that person he can look up to- can _look to_ for guidance. I can’t even guide _myself_ through this the right way. We may be more distant now, but Mark’s _always_ been worth the _world_ to me.”

Jack rolled black fondant into thin ropes for Tim’s arms. “Welcome to my life,” he told Tom. “You think I have any fucking idea what I’m doing half the time? Do you realize how many times I’ve done something and prayed that it wouldn’t backfire spectacularly? I’m honestly terrified about tomorrow, because it’s the first time Mark’s been conscious of being on video since _they_ had him. I’ve been trying to work him up to it with selfies and audio work, but...yeah. That video I showed you today, of him with Chica? I only risked it because Chica was there, and I immediately apologized and I’ve already deleted it. It was for you and you alone, and that was why he was okay with it.”

After the arms were made, Jack picked up the brown fondant and began to shape it into Tim’s hands, trying to keep them the same size. Thank god Mark had a simple little ‘mascot.’ Tim and Sam were easy enough to replicate in cake form, even for someone as incompetent with crafty stuff as Jack. “But it was mostly his ideas, so we have to try it. And that’s...that’s just it. We have to keep trying. We know what _definitely_ sets him off, so we can avoid it. We know how _bad_ he can be set off, so we _want_ to avoid it. And...and if you break a rule and trigger him again, it’s your own damn fault now. You know better.” Jack sighed, sticking the hands to the arms with a bit of water, then positioning them on either side of the cake. Tim was giving a good belly laugh. His hands were a different shade of brown than his body. Oh well. “Sucks, but that’s how life is in this house. He’s the china shop. We’re the bulls trying not to break things.”

“I… I know. I get that. It’s a reason I agreed to do the vlog. I really don’t like being on camera, but if it means I can be there for his sake… of course I’ll do it. Especially if it’ll make him happy.”

Tom squeezed and rubbed at his wrists. “...what do _you_ do? When you accidentally push him too far, or find a new trigger?” The words were quieter now. “How do you get through the guilt and just… God, I can’t even think of a good word for it. Nothing fits. Just… that overwhelming sense of _wrong,_ at seeing him like that, at knowing _you did that._ How do you cope with it?”

“I bottle it up.” Jack adjusted the curve of Tim's arm. “Press it down tight and small because I can't afford to wallow in it while he's triggered. Can't afford to let him see. I don't have someone else who can check on him while I'm trying to piece my heart back together, so I just…” Jack shrugged, glancing briefly over at Tom. “I learn how to cope without it. Wait until he's distracted or asleep and go take a shower. Sob under the spray so he never sees my tears. Go into the recording room and rage into the foam so he never hears my screams. Sometimes my therapist can help. Sometimes I'll write to her, send her an email or something.”

Jack sighed, studying his cake. Done? Probably. He could clear out some space in the fridge for it. “I don't bottle it up _forever_ , but I have to be picky about when I beat myself up. Because he can't cope with me collapsing on him right after he collapsed. But mostly…” he shrugged again, looking back to Tom. “Mostly I try to make him laugh or smile, as if one genuine laugh can erase one panic attack, as if I can somehow balance the pain I cause him with happiness.”

After a pause, Jack admitted, “Panic is still winning, but getting Chica here almost balanced things.”

Tom squeezed his knuckles, one hand at a time, and sighed. “Yeah… yeah, I can get that. I’m glad she’s having the effect on him we thought she would.” Rising to his feet, Tom moved into the kitchen and surveyed the finished cake. “...huh. Not bad, for a guy that doesn’t do a lot of decorating. I’m impressed.” A slight quirk came to Tom’s lips for the first time since earlier that afternoon. “I think he’s gonna love it.”

“You think?” Jack cocked his head to the side and smiled. “I think so too. He's always getting on my case about my lack of kitchen skills, but that's not really true. I _can_ cook, and do bakey things. I just like it when someone else does it for me.”

“Well then, Mr. McLoughlin, you are in luck. Because for the next week you’re gonna have _twice_ the Fischbachs to cook for you.”

Eventually, Mark came out of the bedroom. He found Jack and Tom in the living room. Jack was curled up in the window seat on his laptop. Tom was on his laptop too, but he was stretched out on the couch. He sat up as Mark came into the room. The awkward tension was palpable, but thankfully not alien.

Quietly, Tom closed his laptop and moved it to the coffee table. He turned to sit properly on the couch and silently patted the cushion beside him. Tom glanced at Jack, then looked back to his lap. Mark glanced at Jack and then dropped his gaze as well upon claiming the offered spot. Jack wasn’t leaving. He wanted to supervise their conversation, in case Tom started to royally fuck up again. Several excruciating moments passed where neither brother said a word. Tom stared into space and Mark anxiously twiddled his thumbs.

“I’m sorry-”

The words halted in a mash-up of exceedingly similar voices as both men began to apologize at the exact same time. Tom fumbled and looked at Mark as if he’d grown a second head. Mark, too, sputtered softly and turned away from his brother. He rubbed nervously at the back of his neck.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Mark. Seriously. I’m the one that pushed way too far and triggered you. It was especially wrong of me to mention the…” Tom frowned minutely and gave a little nod.

But Mark just shook his head. “Tom, it was an accident. You didn’t know that name would trigger me. You didn’t know just how attached I was to this thing. You didn’t know I was… that sensitive, still. To being confronted. Because I hid all of that from you. From _everyone._ And it was selfish, and probably kind of stupid, and if I’d just _told you_ then none of this would have happened…”

It was Tom’s turn to shake his head and he started to reach for Mark. But he stopped himself halfway, hovered uncertainly, then dropped the hand back to the couch under Jack’s watchful eyes. “Maybe some of it was an accident. Like the name. But you can’t say I wouldn’t know calling you out was going to hurt you. Jack _told_ me not to mention the colla… the _collar,_ but I did anyway. Because I felt like you weren’t taking things seriously enough. And that was wrong. I shouldn’t assume _anything_ about you, especially now, and I shouldn’t act like my view is automatically right.”

Mark frowned. Quietly, one of his own hands stretched out to touch its fallen brother. He stared at their hands instead of looking into his brother’s guilt-ridden face. “What’s this? The almighty, all-knowing Thomas Fischbach admitting that maybe he doesn’t know what’s best for his baby brother Marky? Never thought I’d see the day….” There was a tender affection to the teasing as Mark curled crooked fingers around Tom’s.

Tom stared down at their hands. The muscles in Tom’s face inexplicably twitched as he hooked his thumb around Mark’s hand to return the squeeze. “There’s a first time for everything….”

Mark’s own lips gave a brief quirk but a majority of the smile rested firmly in his eyes. He was finally looking at Tom, and his brother was staring right back. This time when their eyes met, they stayed. “It’s not the first time you fucked up, Tom. It won’t be the last. I do it too, and Jack, and everyone. Shit happens. It does. And I’ve forgiven Jack, every time. I’m gonna forgive you too. Because I know it’s not on purpose. And you’d take it back if you could. But you can’t, so I’m telling you it’ll be okay. _I forgive you._ Because I love you, and it’ll take more than a few stupid words to get rid of me. Stuck with me for life, bro.”

“Oh God, someone save me.” Tom drawled dramatically. But he was smiling at Mark. “You’re too generous for your own good, Mark. Are you sure you’re okay? I mean, you know what I mean.”

“I’m okay, Tom. I am. Maybe a little shaken up still but it’s fine. I’m letting you touch me, so… that’s usually a big indicator I’m over it.” He glanced down at their joined hands again. Brightened up a bit when Tom’s thumb rubbed little circles into his skin. He thought for a moment, then hesitantly licked his lips. “Y’know… there is a spot I always like to go to, after I’ve had a big attack. To settle my nerves. It’s out in the garden; want me to show you? I could… show you the rest, too. We could bring Chica, and she can run around some more. There was all this hemlock when we first moved in but I ripped it out so the yard should be safe for her now. If you get close enough to the fence, you can even hear the river…”

Chica, having heard her name, came padding into the living room with lolling tongue and wagging tail. “Sure. Yeah, okay. We can do that.” Tom watched Mark’s face light up, then turned to look back at Jack. “You coming with us?”

Jack glanced over at the brothers. He had been paying attention to the entire conversation, but he hadn’t looked over at them too often. Mark’s voice was calm. Tom wasn’t triggering him. “I can stay in here,” he said. “Unless you want me to join you.” Jack was willing to trust Tom again. Did Tom trust himself?

Tom was a little surprised, and paused for a moment. Then Mark leaned in a few inches to whisper in a way that _definitely_ wasn’t whispering at all. “If he comes with us he won’t let us fistfight the badgers, Tom.” Tom ended up laughing anyway. It was just too ridiculous of a statement when coupled with Mark’s delivery. His laugh, while a steady “huhuhuhu” like Mark’s, was a higher pitch and far less hilarious to listen to.

Except it was like a chain reaction, because Tom laughing set Mark to laughing, even if it was a weak one. Together, it was one of the funniest sounds imaginable. Chica gave off a bark or two in the usual dog bewilderment as the brothers hunched closer together on the couch.

“Watch it, Fischbach,” Jack warned, holding up a finger as he turned back to his laptop with a grin of his own. “Or else _we are getting a goat._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	30. Evening 160: A Pink Collar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark struggles. Jack supports.

Mark went into the garden. Mark _went into the fucking garden_ and Jack had to drag the hoover out for the _third_ time that day. “Just for that, Mark, _I_ pick the toppings tonight. And it’s gonna have corn!”

Despite Tom’s request for anchovies (and Mark’s silent begging _not_ to ask Tom for his opinion), they ended up with a boring extra pepperoni and a full house with three types of meats, two types of peppers, corn, and pineapple. Combined with garlic bread and soda, dinner was an absolute disaster on the healthy food side. It was _delicious_.

Jack dragged out a third controller for some Overwatch, and Tom joined them in their usual evening games until he was practically falling asleep on the side of the couch. Jack nudged Mark after the last game ended and then reached over to nudge Tom. “Hey. You done good. Your jet lag shouldn’t be too bad if you want to go to sleep now.”

“Ohhhh thank God, I think I was starting to see double the Junkrats on your screen. Or maybe Mark just switched over without saying anything.” Half of Tom’s words were warped beyond understanding by a yawn. The controller had been hanging precariously from his hands when Jack finally nudged him. He scrubbed at the heavy bags under his brown eyes with a hand as he set it aside. “Bed sounds amazing. You two should go too. Big day tomorrow and all that.” He stood and stretched.

Mark ruffled fingers along Chica’s back with his free hand as Tom got up; she’d been lying at his feet with one of the squeaky toys for a while now. “Yeah. Just be prepared to put on all kinds of makeup and costumes, Tom! And for copious amounts of camera time. You’re not getting out of this one.” He beamed at his brother and Tom sent him a tired “big brother” look in response.

_“Aesaekki.”_

_“Salanghae.”_

Tom gave a little “tch” at the counter Mark delivered, then muttered the same. Mark’s smile managed to trickle down into his mouth. “I call bathroom first. You guys can clean up when I’m done. Good night.”

“I did get makeup remover, don’t worry. Nothing should be _permanent_.” Jack grinned  up at Tom as well. “Sleep well, Tom. If you need anything during the night, feel free to help yourself, or kick one of us awake if you can’t find it.” Jack hoped he had stocked Tom’s room with anything the older man might need, at least for the first night. Wireless password, water bottles, snacks, toothbrush...what more did _anyone_ need?

“I’m gonna hold you to that ‘kick us awake’ comment.” Tom tossed over his shoulder as he left.

Mark stuck out his tongue at the retreating back. “Good night!” Setting his controller aside as well, he stretched in his seat with a soft sound.

Jack flipped Tom a rude gesture with two fingers as the older man left, but he was laughing.

“Chica need to go out before bed?” Jack asked, glancing over at Mark and his dog. The garden was Mark’s territory. Mark would get to potty her before he decided where she’d sleep.

Chica, hearing her name, lifted her head from her paws with ears perked. Mark hummed. “Yeah, I should take her out.” He got to his feet with the usual pop of joints that came with sitting for way too long. Chica bounded up to join him with an eager bark and he smiled down at her affectionately before glancing to Jack. “You wanna come with us? It’s cloudy tonight, but you can still hear the river….”

“You know, my schedule’s been so much more normal human being since you came here,” Jack remarked as he got to his feet. “I used to stay up till four, five am. Now I’m usually in bed before the day is technically over.” Jack still stayed up late and slept in late, but his day ended around midnight instead of dawn. “Lead the way, Chica and Chica’s daddy.”

“Well then, glad I could regulate your irresponsible butt. You’re welcome.” Mark shot Jack a teasing look as he headed for the back door. Chica was able to associate it with the backyard now and she reached it well before either man. She yipped and went up on her hind legs to press her front paws against the wood; tail wagging a mile a minute. Mark chuckled and gave her a pat on the side before letting her out. Instantly, the retriever bounded out into the darkness; triggering the floodlight on the back of the house. The garden was bathed in light to showcase Chica running wide circles around its perimeter.

“My irresponsible butt was largely your fault in the first place,” Jack pointed out, leaning back against the house as he watched Chica run as if she’d known this yard her entire life. “On an L.A. schedule, I was in bed by ten at the latest most nights.” Jack’s entire life revolved around YouTube, giving him odd work hours and odder responsibilities. If he wanted to play with any of his YouTube friends, like Mark or SuperMega or the Grumps, he needed to stay up late for when _they_ were active.

Jack didn’t really mind. America had the biggest corner of the internet. Staying up late meant Jack was most active when many of his community were online and able to see. It really helped reinforce the fact that he genuinely did care about them. And it made jetlag a breeze when he was already functioning on the other timezone and the only difference was how much sun was in the sky.

“Well, you’re welcome for that too.” Mark was being cheeky, but Jack wouldn’t complain. When Mark was like this, it was almost like nothing had happened at all, and he was the same old Markiplier from last year.. “...I really love it here.”

“I complain about Ireland a lot, but if I really hated it, I wouldn’t have stayed. L.A. would’ve been so much more tempting.” But Ireland was _beautiful,_ and Jack really did love nature. His early vlog had been an exaggeration but not a lie. “It’s got its perks to make up for the lack of Lucky Charms.” And right now, one of said perks was Mark himself. Jack let his eyes wander over to his housemate, watching him lit up against the night. Without Mark, Jack wouldn’t even _consider_ moving to L.A.

Mark turned the barest hint of a smile his way. “I guess you’re right. Though I still think it’s a travesty you don’t have them here. I’ll just have to bring a surplus whenever I visit. If it wasn’t so complicated, I might try to move here. But doing that would be even more counterproductive for my channel….”

“Oh? You’re actually gonna come back once you get out of here?” Jack didn’t bother trying to hide his surprise as he looked over at Mark fully, not just sneaking a glimpse in the night. “A year ago, you made anyone who wanted to hang out with you come to _you_ , unless they lived in Cincinnati. Is Markiplier actually going to get off his lazy butt for once?”

Jack shook his head, smiling crookedly at Mark. “You know you’re always welcome to come visit, or if...if things get too overwhelming. Ireland’ll always be here.” They both knew Mark’s recovery wasn’t going to be as straightforward as everyone was making it out to be. Once he got the all-clear from Dr. Agon as far as his lungs were concerned, he was still going to have a head full of trauma and triggers. While Mark could learn to cope, Jack knew he would never be the same carefree, happy-go-lucky guy he had been before. He might come close, but he’d never be the same.

Mark scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest as it puffed out with mock indignation, even as he was trying not to smile. “Maybe. Sometimes. If I feel like it. It wasn’t lazy. It was a _calculated decision._ L.A. has all the cool stuff to do and it was easier to keep up with productivity when I wasn’t running around the country. You know how bad my track record is with keeping a schedule. Going to visit everyone wherever they _happened_ to be living would have killed me.” Mark uncrossed his arms to give Chica’s head a good ruffle. “But! I suppose I can make an exception for you. If only to take a little vacation when things get too hairy over there. I’ll take it into serious consideration.” He gave a “serious” nod to emphasize his words. Chica even barked, as if sensing her master needed further validation. Mark beamed.

“Sometimes I wonder why you even bother saying you have a schedule,” Jack said, shaking his head. “But then I remember how bad you are with one, and can only imagine how much worse you’d be without.” Pretty much like now, with next to no new content at all? Nah, that was too bad to even joke about. And Mark _wouldn’t_ be that bad. He loved making videos, even if they were just shitposts like Boat Dog or Punk Dog that everyone ate up because they were _brilliant_ for their stupidity.

“For appearances, duh! If I say I’ve got one and then don’t stick to it at least it shows I _tried._ Instead of just doing whatever. It makes me feel better about myself.”

Jack rolled his eyes at Mark’s insistence, but he understood how easy it was to _not_ stick to a schedule. If you started to let it slide once, you’d set a precedent. It was why Jack had always been so proud of his flawless schedule. He had even managed to keep it up while Mark was kidnapped. It was only after Mark was released that Jack’s years of perfect uploads faltered with a hiatus and then half-schedule. Sometimes it frustrated him that Jack had let so much slip while Mark was in hospital, but then he reminded himself that he only stopped uploading when his best friend in the world was literally breaking down every two hours. If that wasn’t reason enough to keep away from his channel...well, then, there wasn’t one. And his community had absolutely understood. Jack had actually gotten many messages threatening him to _not_ make videos while Mark was recovering, because Mark needed him more than the community did.

(Those messages always made him cry.)

He’d also gotten yelled at sometimes for responding to the community while on hiatus, and he’d have to tell them things like “Mark is sleeping, it’s okay,” or “I’m finding cheerful pictures to show Mark.” When he’d post the latter, the Markiplier or Jacksepticeye tag would find itself inundated with adorable pictures of puppies and kittens and them and all their friends being goofy and stupid. Jack always shared as many of those with Mark as he could, trying to bring a smile to Mark’s eyes in the sterile hospital.

Maybe that was something Mark could do here. Jack frowned thoughtfully at Chica. “...how do you feel about filming your baby girl?” He peeled himself off the wall as they turned to go back inside. “You could make more Chica videos while you’re here. Your fans _love_ that shit.”

Mark pulled the door open and let Chica into the house before going inside himself. This time, he was careful to take off his shoes _before_ he could track dirt on the floor. “Chica videos? What, you mean like… like Boat Dog and stuff?” Mark paused by the door to look at Jack in slight surprise. Chica left the boys to go get some water. “I… guess I could do that. I love filming Chica. She’s adorable, and awesome, no matter what kind of shit I put her through. Best dog, most patience.” He smirked. “It would be easier on me than making personal vlogs too…. You could even help. You could guest star.”

“What, _me_? Guest star alongside the one and only _Chica Fischbach_?” Jack gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “Why mercy me, I’d never be good enough for that why the fuck did I suddenly become a southern belle there?” Jack frowned bewilderedly at Mark, then shrugged it off with a laugh. “I dunno, adding humans into the various dog skits kinda ruins the theme, don’t you think? But I’d be happy to help out however I can. We can do Irish dog, or Doctor dog… I’ve got a cat mask and a wooden sword…”

Mark started laughing, covering his mouth with his hands in an attempt to keep quiet. He shook his head, needing a minute.

When he’d finally stopped laughing, Mark drew several deep breaths and then grinned. “You don’t have to be _in_ the shot. You can be like me. A background prop. Your accent would be _great_ for some audio.” His expression turned a bit sly. “I mean the Southern one, not the Irish. Damsel Dog. That’s gonna be a thing now. No take-backsies.”

“But Chica _clearly_ has your hands,” Jack said, shaking his head. “I guess though, if you _really_ want to give her my voice, I could be a damsel. For her.” _For you, if it’ll make you laugh like that again._ Jack treasured all of Mark’s laughs, even though they came more and more frequently these days. He remembered the months when Mark didn’t laugh at all. Jack was _never_ going to take Mark’s laugh for granted again.

“You’re gonna be _the best_ damsel. And I’ll give the video a twist ending. Nobody puts Chica in a corner.” Mark paused; considering. “Except me. When she poops on the floor. Damn, we’ll have to ask Tyler to ship the Fedora of Shame over. Punishment just isn’t as effective without it.”

“Chica is _your_ dog. That means if she shits on the floor, _you’re_ cleaning it up. Same if she eats the walls. _You’re_ fixing them. Speaking of Chica, is she gonna join us tonight?” Jack asked. “Or does she get the crate?” And was Mark going to actually try to give her the pink collar, or did that need to wait a little longer?

Mark looked from where Chica sat contently waiting for them next to her crate and gave a soft sigh. “She’s going in her crate. It was good to have her earlier, when I was panicking. But I’ll be okay now. She should stay in there tonight so she doesn’t get used to being in a bed with me. Us.”

Jack gave Chica’s ears a ruffle before she went in the crate. He did like having a dog in the house. It just changed the entire atmosphere of everything.

Gently, Mark called the dog and led her to the crate. She slipped inside without much coaxing and immediately laid down on the items Jack had left for her earlier. Mark crouched at the crate door and smiled at her. “Good girl, Chica. We’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

Jack didn’t say anything else as Mark got Chica in her crate and ready for bed. He instead went to gather up the glasses they’d been drinking from while playing Overwatch, tidying up before bed and buying Mark time to deliberate over whether or not he would pass the collar over. Jack wouldn’t mention it if Mark didn’t, wouldn’t make him feel bad if he couldn’t. If Mark wasn’t ready, he wasn’t ready, no matter how much Jack hoped he was.

Jack cleaned up the kitchen and threw out the pizza boxes and stored what little pizza was left in the fridge (only two slices). He put the dishes in the dishwasher and wiped down the counter and kept stealing glances into the living room to check on Mark’s progress, trying to be unobtrusive enough not to interrupt. Eventually, he ran out of things to do, and instead of puttering around and pretending to be busy, he went back to the living room and waited in the doorway for Mark to be done. By that point, Mark was buckling the pink collar around Chica’s neck, and Jack’s heart felt ready to burst, his smile soft as he just watched Mark and his pup.

Chica gave another shake coupled with a soft “borf”. “There we go. That’s better, isn’t it?” Mark murmured softly to his dog. He continued to pet her. She let him do whatever he wanted and licked at his hand when he finally pulled away. “Good night kisses to you too, Chica-bica. Be a good girl and don’t act up now, okay? Daddy’s gonna be here. Promise. I’ll see you in the morning.” Quietly, he shut the crate door and pushed himself back onto his feet.

Turning towards the doorway, Mark finally noticed Jack and immediately went a bit pink. He rubbed at his neck where the collar used to be and glanced away nervously. “I. Uh. I’m good now. For bed. We can go; Chica’s all set.”

“Kitchen’s all set too.” Jack lifted his hand, offering it to Mark to hold. “Let’s go get some sleep. Big day tomorrow, birthday boy.”

 _I am so fucking proud of you, you have no idea…_ Jack was still smiling. Even if it was just for one night, one night while Mark was mostly asleep, it would make the next time easier. And the next time easier still. And it would be harder and harder for Mark to take the collar away from his beloved Chica, and _this was good_. Best. Mark was finally, _finally_ , going to be able to close this wound and let it start to heal.

Mark smiled and took the offered hand, giving it a squeeze. “Let’s go catch those z’s, then. I get the feeling we’re really gonna need them.”

Jack squeezed Mark’s hand back and led him to the bedroom, turning off lights as they went. “God, just imagine Tom’s face tomorrow when I come at him with pink lipstick…” They hadn’t been able to find a way to get actual warfstaches here in such a short time, so Mark and Jack had decided on a garish shade of pink lipstick to use to draw on mustaches. Jack and Tom would likely be sporting them all day, while Mark would get to decide how long he wanted to wear his. Jack had made sure to get several tubes just so they wouldn’t run out.

While Mark got ready for bed in the bathroom, Jack checked his Twitter and Tumblr, and then Mark’s. Mark’s was already filling up with birthday wishes. Jack smiled and tapped out a quick tweet: _The birthday boy has NO IDEA what we have in store for him tomorrow!_ as if Mark hadn’t been in on the plans from the beginning. He added a quick selfie of the evilest smirk he could muster and was giggling on the foot of the bed when Mark returned.

Instead of answering Mark’s confusion in words, Jack just flipped Mark his phone with the newest tweet still pulled up and gathered his own pyjamas for bed. “You’re terrible,” Mark quipped as he read the tweet.

Jack made quick work of his nightly routine in the bathroom, changing, brushing his teeth, washing his face, and setting aside his glasses for the night, before he came back into the bedroom where Mark was waiting in his bed. Maybe Tom had a good reason to be concerned...but then again, he really didn’t. They were both fully clothed. The bed was big enough that they didn’t _have_ to touch to share it. They were just….bros. Bros who ended up cuddling together. That was Jack’s fault, not Mark’s. Not returned. (Except in lazy mornings that didn’t count.)

Jack returned to the bedroom and was about to just give his dirty clothes a toss in the general direction of his hamper when he hesitated. Tom was here. For a week. And _judging_ Jack for sharing a room with Mark. Jack actually crossed the room and put the clothes inside the hamper instead of waiting for laundry day to gather everything up. “Shut up,” he grumbled to Mark before Mark could even say anything. “We have a visitor.”

To be honest, Jack was a little surprised Mark was still awake. Usually, Mark started dozing off even before Jack got back from the bathroom. Was it the collar? It was probably the collar.

Jack flipped the lights off and climbed into his side of the bed. In the dim glow of the nightlight, he could just make out Mark’s profile. “You okay? You’ve had a crazy day.”

He never asked Mark if Mark wanted to cling to him from the outset, but there had been a couple nights, like that first one, where Mark’s day had been emotionally draining and Mark sought comfort from Jack. Jack never said ‘come snuggle me,’ but he’d open invitations with his words.

Mark shrugged and shook his head a little. He scooted an inch or so closer to Jack. “I’m… I feel naked. Exposed. I feel like I’m missing something and I hate it. It’s not missing if it didn’t belong there to begin with, Jack, it’s cold.” Mark dug his fingers into the pillow beneath his head.

“Even if it didn’t belong there, you’re used to it being there. Of course it’s gonna feel like it’s missing. Like the first time you wear shorts after winter.” Jack rolled onto his side to face Mark, giving the other man a minute before he shifted, lifting an arm beneath the duvet to invite Mark in for the hug he seemed to want. “I’m proud of you. I’m sure Chica feels better for having her proper collar back. And I know you can get through this.”

Mark frowned, brows pinching together. He hesitated; gaze flitting back to the door, but then he wiggled quietly over until Jack’s arm could loop around him and sighed from his nose. “I want to get through this. I need to.”

“You will, Mark.” Jack hugged Mark loosely, letting his arm rest over Mark’s side more than he actually _held_ the other man. “Mark, you’ve pushed through so much worse than this. I know you can do this too. You are the strongest person I know, mentally, emotionally, and physically. I _know_ you can do this.” He was careful not to nuzzle against Mark’s hair, not to let his arm go too low around Mark’s waist. Holding Mark when they were awake had so many rules, but Jack took care to not break any of them, lest he never be allowed to hold Mark again.

“...I’m going to try.” Mark removed his glasses and reached awkwardly over Jack to set them on the bedside table. When his hand returned, he curled both in the little gap between their bodies. Their feet touched beneath the duvet, knees just brushing together, but otherwise, they weren’t touching. He breathed out. “I can do this. I’m gonna do this.” Mark closed his eyes. “...Jack. Could you… could you maybe sing something? In Irish? It doesn’t have to be long, I just… need a distraction.”

Jack hummed softly, closing his eyes and giving a nod. Irish, hm? And it was night, so a lullaby would be better than a drinking song. There was one, of course, that was his favorite, bringing to mind memories of his mother sitting by his bed when he was a little boy, stroking his hair and singing softly. Mark really seemed to like it too, after all the times Jack had sung it to him. “Seothó seothú ló. Seothó seothú ló. Seothú ló. Seothú ló. Mo ghaol, mo ghrá 'gus m'eadúil thú. Mo stoirín úr is m'fhéirín thú…”

By the end of the first verse, the tension was leaving Mark’s body and he exhaled long and deep. He closed his eyes, his breathing evening out and fists uncurling. Mark fell asleep like that, tucked in against Jack’s chest... _without_ the collar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	31. Morning 161: Birthday Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You only turn 28 once.

Jack woke up to the rarest of mornings, a morning where Mark was tucked against his chest and _still asleep_. Jack's arm was pinned beneath Mark's body, and Mark was sprawled half on top of him, arms clamped tight around Jack's sides, a small wet patch over Jack's shoulder where Mark was drooling in his sleep. Jack didn't find it gross at all. It was kinda sweet, actually, a sign of how much Mark trusted him.

_Jesus Christ, I've got it bad…_

Drool wasn't _sweet_ , it was _wet_ , and it was very likely from Mark sleeping with his mouth open in that room just so he could breathe around his swollen, broken nose. Same with the slight wuffling snores. Mark was damaged and broken and Jack's good mood evaporated at those thoughts.

 _Or maybe Mark's just a noisy, messy sleeper_. It wasn't like Jack had much experience with Mark's sleeping habits before this whole mess. Maybe Mark drooled on everyone like how Jack clung. Maybe it was just Mark being Mark and perfectly normal.

Jack sighed, craning his head back to try to get a good look at Mark's face. Yup, still out cold. Good. Jack had wanted to make Mark breakfast for his birthday. Of course, doing so required him to extract himself from Mark's grip without waking him. Jack hesitated, biting his lip as he looked down again. Mark's neck was bare. If he woke up without his collar and without Jack…

Okay, plan B. Jack stretched his free arm out to snag his phone, pulling it off the charger. He opened Skype and sent a quick message to Tom. “Any chance you're already awake?”

“Chances are slim,” came the reply a minute or two later.

“So...I’m gonna be a bad host here…” Jack rolled his eyes at himself, glancing back to Mark before continuing to text one-handed. “I was going to make Mark breakfast, but Mark’s sorta...clinging. Hard. And snoring. Could you…?”

Way to make the guest cook breakfast on his very first day in the house. Jack’s mother would be ashamed. But it was for Mark. Surely Thomas would understand.

“Bet he’s drooling too. Never really got a handle on that bad habit.” Tom unintentionally assuaged some of Jack’s anxieties with that message. “Make breakfast? Yeah. I can do that. You’d better return the favor sometime this week though. And I mean serious breakfast. Not a bowl of cereal in bed.”

Jack huffed a little laugh at Tom’s reply, looking at the darker patch of drool on his shoulder. Well... _good_. At least that was just Mark being adorable and not a callback to his broken nights in that room.

Jack just thought of a sleeping, snoring, drooling man with a monster of bedhead as _adorable_. Godfuckingdamn. _We_ ** _need_** _to stop sleeping together…_

“Can you let Chica out too? I’ll do a full Irish spread tomorrow to make up for it. Your arteries will hate me.” Bacon _and_ sausage and butter and thick slices of bread and jam, fried tomatoes and mushrooms and puddings and baked beans...Jack’s mouth was watering just _thinking_ about it. Whatever Thomas made wouldn’t be nearly as delicious, he was sure, but he’d take even bowls of Lucky Charms as long as they came with coffee. “In bed, even.”

“Yeah, I’ll take care of Mark’s pupperschnupp. And not to worry. I already gave my arteries a thorough pep talk before flying over here. I knew you guys would kill my healthy diet. Just make sure there’s some delicious food on a tray waiting for me come tomorrow morning. I’m gonna need it after today. Probably going to take a quick shower. Haven’t had one since before the flight and if I’m gonna be excessively on camera, then I’m gonna be clean.”

“No rush,” Jack responded with a grin. “Mark usually’s an early riser, but he had a very draining day yesterday. If I beat him awake, he’s OUT.”

Jack hadn’t bothered to turn any of the lights on, and he was staying as still as he could to keep from disturbing Mark’s sleep. It was kind of nice, actually, to hold Mark like this without any worries about triggering him. Mark was calm and relaxed and hugging Jack in his sleep like he used to when he was awake. Jack had already lost count of how many stupid, happy little smiles he’d aimed at the sleeping man. Until Mark woke up, Jack could pretend like this was normal, this was his life, Mark was his boyfr-

Yeah, maybe that was taking things too far, even for lazy morning imaginings. Still. It was nice to wake up next to someone and just be _held_.

“Oh, then I suppose you getting up early to make me breakfast tomorrow will be a real treat, huh?”

“Check Chica’s collar when you let her out,” Jack texted to Tom to prevent himself from slipping into a happy little daydream where Mark wasn’t traumatized and was here because he was dating Jack. “And DON’T SAY ANYTHING THIS TIME.”

Jack could hear the shower turn on and eventually off, Tom’s footsteps moving through the house. Eventually, Tom responded: he must have found Chica. “I don’t know what you did, but thank you.”

“That’s actually the main reason I’m still in bed,” Jack texted back, after Tom obviously found the collar after his shower. “Getting him to sleep without it was rough. Don’t want him to wake up and not know where I am. SERIOUSLY DON’T MENTION IT. I want to see how long he’ll go without it.”

Maybe, if Mark’s attention wasn’t drawn back to the missing collar, he wouldn’t even think about it all day. There was going to be a lot of activity to keep Mark distracted. It was possible they could keep Mark from thinking about it, and therefore possible they could keep Mark from wearing it all day. Unlikely...but possible.

“I can do that. Gonna take Chica out and then get breakfast going. Shouldn’t take too long. Try not to drown until then.”

About thirty minutes later, Tom was bursting into the bedroom without even a knock. _“Saengil chukhahae, namdongsaeng!”_ he quipped in simple Korean as he carried a large tray loaded down with goodies through the doorway. It was piled high with Korean pancakes, a vinegar-soy dipping sauce, a mug of tea for himself, two mugs of coffee for the others and all the fixings needed. The pancakes wafted with the scent of sweet bell peppers and the oddly fruity pineapple weed from the garden. Tom set the tray down on the big bed with a smile. "Maybe I should have brought a towel too. Geez, Mark, mind turning off your faucet?"

Mark pushed dazedly away from Jack with a soft snort before scrubbing at his mouth. His cheeks were a bit pink and he focused a light-hearted glare toward his brother. "Don't be jealous cause I'm so hydrated... oh my God, that smell. You didn't." His initial huff morphed into a stunned whisper and he fumbled for his glasses.

"I did." Tom’s smile became a pleased smirk.

“Oh holy Jesus, and here I thought nothing was gonna top my breakfast tomorrow…!” Jack finally sat up when Mark pulled away, just managing not to pout at the lack of Mark-cuddles. Tom however, was bearing a tray of Korean pancakes, and Jack was ready to propose on the spot. “Thomas, you are officially my favorite Fischbach. You made… _and_ coffee!?” There were stars in Jack’s eyes as he clasped his hands together (to rub the pins and needles out of the hand Mark had been lying on, but he could also ham it up a bit). “I love you!”

“Heeeey. What the heck, Tom? Come in here with your pancakes and steal away my best bro. On my birthday and everything. What happened to honor among brothers huh?” Mark pouted at them both as he slipped on his glasses, but he was staring just as eagerly at the food. “In any case, I loved him first, Jack. You’ll have to get in line.”

Tom chuckled; clearly amused by the whole thing. He passed them their respective mugs and claimed his own before plopping down on the bed. He sipped at the steaming tea with a soft hum. “Can’t help it if I’m a better cook than you, Mark. Should’ve paid more attention to mom’s lessons in the kitchen. No scallions? Really? She’d be _so disappointed._ ”

“We haven’t had a need for green onions! I don’t make that much Korean or Asian food. We order Chinese more often than not if we’re craving that stuff….” Mark hung his head a bit dramatically. Tom clucked his tongue and shook his head.

“This is why your Irish friend loves me more than you, Mark. But I’ll accept the love from both of you equally. Think of this later, when you’re trying to shove me into an animatronic costume with pink lipstick.”

“Mark, if he had brought in anything other than _pajeon_ , you’d still be second favorite,” Jack assured Mark, patting his hand. “God, I haven’t had those in _ages_. Do _you_ know how to make them?” He looked over at Mark, then waved him off. “Doesn’t matter. Tom can give me the recipe.” He curled both his hands around his mug and took a deep breath of the aroma, his eyes sliding closed in pleasure. “Mm, Mark, you are also forgiven for sleeping in on top of me. Best not-my-birthday morning ever.”

“Wow. Incredible. I am offend.” Mark deadpanned. He opened his mouth to answer the question, then let it fall shut with a fresh pout when he was cut-off. He huffed again. “I _do_ know how to make’em, thanks. See if I ever make you any.” He was pouting and pink-cheeked still. “Well you were hardly shoving me off.” Mark fixed up his coffee with milk and sugar then proceeded to dramatically sulk as he sipped the beverage.

“Are you saying I should like you more than I like Chica?” Jack asked with a little shake of his head. “It’s like you don’t know your own dog…”

Now Mark _really_ looked offended. Tom snickered. “ _No!!_ I didn’t know you were including Chica! Of _course_ she takes precedence over basically everybody. Don’t patronize me.” Mark whined a bit but Tom just tossed a pillow at his head.

_“Aesaekki.”_

“Takes one to know one! _Babo!_ ”

“Wow Mark. Do you know _any_ Korean that’s _not_ childish insults?”

“Maybe!” The two brothers stared each other down with plenty of sibling love.

Mark hadn’t mentioned the collar yet. Hadn’t even reached for its absence around his neck. Jack sipped his coffee and tried not to deliberately catch Tom’s eye. Nothing suspicious going on at all.

“Sleep well, Tom? Bed okay?” Jack had been a bad host when it came to making breakfast, but he could at least be a better host about checking on Tom’s well-being?

“Yeah, it was fine. Sleep was a little off and on but I think that’s just the jet lag. Finally decided to get up earlier than I usually would on my home schedule. It’s cool. I’ll get used to it. Mark, don’t sulk, you’ll get that look stuck on your face permanently.” Mark just stuck his tongue out at the older man in retaliation.

The morning was going even better than Jack had hoped. Delicious food, delicious coffee, cheerful Mark and friendly Tom. Chica was...somewhere, and there hadn’t been a single crisis yet. Jack grinned happily into his coffee. “So, Tom’s already dressed. I’ll grab the next shower, then get him ready while you indulge. Don’t forget to wear your crown today, birthday boy.”

Tom cringed and Mark grinned. He snatched one of the pancakes. “I’m gonna be the prettiest darn birthday boy the Internet’s ever seen. Just you wait!”

“Please, by all means, take the limelight.”

Jack just chuckled into his coffee, watching the brothers poke fun at each other. Tom really was a lot like Mark, older and taller and calmer, but enough Mark at the core for Jack to already feel comfortable with him. “That is kinda the point of today’s vlog, but we do need to be attractive enough to not look completely off beside the sheer gorgeous majesty that is Markiplier. And trust me, Tom, I did the shopping. He’s gonna be _beautiful_...even if we’re the ones stuck with the pink lipstick.”

Tom’s tone was just about as bland as a human could get. “How deep did you say that river was again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	32. Day 161: The Shit-Post Party of the Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world is not ready for Markiplier's return to vlogging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have been so amazing, sticking through this monster and leaving us such wonderful reviews! I've been incredibly distracted with RL stuff lately, so I feel like I'm dropping the ball on replying to you all, but maybe this giant chapter makes up for it?

“Tom!” Jack had his black cape around his shoulders when he knocked on Tom's door. He was holding a camera and a tube of lipstick. The camera was what he offered the older man, who was sensibly dressed as...Tom. “So, this is the best camera I have. Drop it and I kill you. It should be easy enough for you to use. I've already got it set to just point and shoot automatic mode, and this is what you press to start and stop recording. Here's your zoom, and this is the mic. Simple, right?”

Tom eyed the cape and tube of lipstick but accepted the expensive camera. “At this point, you’re tempting me to drop it so I can obtain sweet release from impending purgatory.” He sighed. “Yeah, simple, I got it. Can’t guarantee film quality but I’ll do my best.”

“That's why I'm giving you the best camera, which has the most built-in ‘prevent sucky recording’ features. Just remember, the better your footage, the more it'll be used. The more it's used, the less you're actually in the video yourself.” Jack grinned at Mark's poor brother.

“Okay, point made….” Brown eyes drifted to the lipstick once more. “...how are you gonna do this when I already have a mustache.”

Jack brandished the lipstick as well, but then he deflated with a shrug. “I...honestly have no idea. Figured I'd just mush it in until it showed up. But _first_ , can we get some footage of just you?” Jack bounced on his toes, grinning again. “I was thinking you filmed yourself in a mirror or something, like ‘help me, I don't know where I am, they don't speak English here,’ and then I can come in and ‘nab’ you for the party…”

“‘Mush it in’. Fantastic.” Tom hummed thoughtfully. “Sounds accurate. I think I can do that. I’ll have to do it in the bathroom, though. No mirrors in here.”

“Yeah, we'll have to wait for Mark to come out first for that.” Jack sighed and shrugged, then held out the lipstick to Tom. “Want to do mine while we wait? As pre-payback for what we're gonna put you through?” Jack was willing to do _anything_ to make this party a success for Mark. A little bit of degrading lipstick mush was hardly the worst thing he'd done on camera.

Tom quirked a brow, but accepted the lipstick. Carefully, he set the camera on the bed and then pointed to a spot beside it. “Take a seat, Jackyboy. I’m about to fully utilize your theory on ‘mushing it in’. Try not to struggle too much. It’ll all be over soon.” It was exceedingly difficult to tell if Tom was making himself sound so villainous and terrifying on purpose or not. He certainly made a show of popping off the lipstick cap and screwing it up into position. There were several more inches visible than would normally be necessary for application. “Press your lips together so the spot under your nose stretches out.”

“Hang on!” Jack pulled out his phone and opened the camera app, switching it over to video and pressing the record button. “Okay. Shot's gonna be crap, but it's better than nothing at all.” Jack wiggled his lips, then obligingly pressed them together for Tom's nefarious purposes. “I did veto any suggestions Mark had involving ice or chili peppers, so be nice?”

“Well my application’s gonna be crap, so. Fitting.” Tom leaned down and pressed one hand on Jack’s narrow shoulder to brace himself. Tom shot the Irishman a pleasant smile. “The concept of ‘nice’, in and of itself, is entirely subjective.” He was precise about initial placement of the lipstick. Drew out a perfect, curlicued stroke that stretched onto Jack’s cheek. Copied it onto the other side. Then his smile turned a hint devious. “Brace yourself.”

Jack laughed and tried not to move too much, squinting sideways at his phone to make sure it was at least pointed in the right direction. “Well, you _are_ a Fischbach. Just remember: our mustaches need to match…”

He really didn't care how much lipstick ended up mashed into his mustache and across his face. He'd looked far worse than anything Tom could do to him with just a tube of pink lipstick (And yes, that included drawing a penis on his face).

“Hmph.” Tom only ended up using _half_ the tube _._ Most of it just went into turning the fair brown hairs on Jack’s upper lip as bright pink as he could get them. Though he’d traced the outer lines once or twice as well to get them the appropriate amount of exaggerated. A minute or two later, he pulled back. “Voila. My Irish masterpiece. You’d better make mine look that terrible.”

Jack wiggled his lips again; they felt oddly heavy with all that lipstick mashed in. He lifted his phone so he could see better and burst out laughing at the sight. “Jesus Christ! It's hideous! It's _perfect_!” If Mark could keep a straight face…well then, he had sterner control than he'd ever shown before.

Jack was glad he'd opted for his Markiplier t-shirt today. It was a perfect match for the horrible pink mustache drawn across his own mustache and skin. “This feels _so weird_. And sticky.” He reached to touch it and stopped himself before he got his fingers pinked up. “Lipstick dries, right? It's not gonna be sticky all day?”

Tom capped the remaining lipstick and tossed the tube onto the bed with a shrug. “Probably. I dunno, man. I don't wear the stuff. Just try not to scratch at it or anything-”

“Oh my God Tom what did you _do to Jack’s face?!_ ” Mark was standing in the doorway of the bedroom looking a hilarious cross between astonished and giddy. He let loose with his signature laugh and drew closer. “How much lipstick did you even _use?_ ”

Jack looked at Mark and felt like he'd just been punched in the gut. In the very best way. Just like he had when he first saw his first girlfriend. Mark was standing there, laughing, dressed in his worn flannel and dark jeans, and it was all Jack could do to just _breathe_. Mark looked fit and healthy and _perfect_ , and _shit_ , Jack needed to pull himself together before he was caught staring!

“Half the tube. The other half is for me.” Tom pulled a slight face. Mark just beamed.

Jack pooched his lips out as Mark laughed, primping for his audience. “It's my Warfstache! Don't you like it? I think it's great, matches my shirt!”

“Haha I can see that. Nice outfit. Wonder where you got it.” Mark was grinning brightly (which still was just a faint smile, his eyes glittered with joy).

“Some goober on YouTube was selling them and I figured I'd toss a couple bucks his way, out of pity. It's all good. I've got Sam to confirm my identity.” Jack jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the fan-made cape.

“How generous of you. I'll have to look him up, as a fellow goober on YouTube. A YouTuber. YouGoober? I should trademark that.”

Jack grinned up at Mark and wondered if he could steal a hug today _or a kiss, and would the lipstick smear across Mark's upper lip…?_ He coughed, almost choking on his tongue at the intrusive thought, and popped to his feet. “Bathroom's clear, Tom! Time for your big scene, before I get my hands on _your_ face!”

“What's going on? You guys planned some big scene without me?” Mark sounded stunned and disappointed.

Tom rolled his eyes. “It's just a little something to further showcase my torment on this, the day of your birth. Don't worry about it. The vlog needed a good intro.” He grabbed the camera Jack had given him and headed for the bathroom. “You can wait outside the door or whatever you feel would be funnier. Just come in whenever while I'm busy talking to myself like a totally normal human being. The shock and terror value will be more real that way.”

“He needed a mirror,” Jack explained to Mark. “One of those horror, help me, I'm trapped in this weird place intros. We could also try a typical Markiplier intro too, if you want some options. I bet your community is just _dying_ for,” Jack flicked his hand in Mark's usual wave, dropping his voice into something close to Mark's usual register, “hello everybody, my name is Markiplier…”

“Oh, well, we could make you scaring the crap out of Tom the video intro and then do a quick one outside with all the party stuff for the ‘real intro’.” Mark used air quotes, but it was thrown off by the giggling Jack’s impression triggered. “Aren't you glad my voice can sound that smooth again? Thought it would never recover from the pneumonia crap….”

“Oh yeah,” Jack agreed, picking up the lipstick and heading out to the hall. “You'd still be you without your voice, but at the same time…” At the same time, Mark's honey-smooth voice and breathless laughter were hallmarks of his internet persona. He'd still be _Mark_ with a rasp to his voice, but could he be _Markiplier_?

Jack put his ear up against the bathroom door, listening and grinning over at Mark. This was gonna be _good_!

“Help me. I have no idea where I am.” Tom’s voice was horrified and quiet, and he’d left the lights off. “I'm in foreign lands and _no one_ here speaks English. It's all some kind of lilting gibberish and I'm _scared._ I don't know what to do; I'm hiding out in this old cottage in the wilderness but they could still find me.” Tom thumped the sink. “Oh God. I think they tracked me here. I need to hide-”

The door was open a crack already, so Jack sucked in a deep breath and kicked it open. “TOP O’ T’MORNIN’ TER YA, TOMMY-BOY!” He clamped his hand on Tom's shoulder, grinning maniacally into the mirror. The gloom made his mouth distorted and out of shape from the lipstick. It was perfect. “We ‘av lashin’s ter chucker!” He pulled back on Tom's shoulder to knock him askew before the clip ended.

The abject terror and shock in Tom’s face was completely real. The poor man verbalized an approximation of a keyboard smash and very nearly dropped the camera he was holding. He clutched at the sink with his free hand. The camera was perfectly catching both Tom’s pale, pleading expression and Jack’s demonic leer in in the reflection of the mirror. Tom mouthed an emphatic “Help me” into the mirror with wide eyes.

Tom gave a startled cry as he let Jack tug him off-balance. Once he recovered, he pressed the Stop button and immediately laughed. He turned back to Jack’s heavily shadowed face with a grin. “Oh my God, Jack, you nearly gave me a heart attack I swear. I thought I was gonna die. If I didn’t know this was a setup I might have actually elbowed you in the face. You are _terrifying._ ”

Mark, who had been watching from the doorway, was stifling his own wheezing laughter with his hands. “Ohohoho crap, Tom. _Tom._ You should’ve seen your face when Jack burst in here, it was priceless, I can’t wait to see the footage. Best start to the vlog _ever._ How am I supposed to even _top that?!_ ”

It was all Jack could do to not burst out laughing until the scene was over, and then he had to turn away with a howl of laughter himself, clapping his hands together. “That was _brilliant_ , Tom, why don’t you get on camera more? You’re a natural!” He flipped on the lights and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, then spun to point a finger at Mark. “Who’re they gonna blame it on, Anti or Dark? Obviously, that would be letting Anti out to play, but with all the Markiplier stuff, I could see some fan theories that I got possessed by Dark…”

It was a little weird how their communities had created evil alter-egos of the two of them. Mark played into the Darkiplier every now and then, but Jack had only recently started to let “Anti” have a few minutes on camera. Halloween last year had been _epic_ , and the artwork was _really fucking cool_. Anti was always so badass. _Always_. And the community was always wondering when he’d come out again...

Tom shrugged, smiling faintly. “Just camera shy, I guess. Not really one for the limelight like Mark is.”

Mark’s expression turned thoughtful- and devious. “I think you should go with Anti on this one. From what I’ve seen of him, your actions were pretty spot-on. Crazed makeup and all.” Mark put a hand on his chin and struck a familiar pose. “Of course, if it had been _me,_ they’d be thinking of someone _other_ than Darkiplier.” He gave his words a distinct lisp that couldn’t be misinterpreted as anyone other than Wilford Warfstache himself. Tom snorted by the mirror.

“Everyone is going to eat this shit up,” Jack declared. “It’s gonna be your best video ever. But first…” He held up the lipstick, uncapping it dramatically. ‘Tommy-boy, you need to be made gorgeous…” Time for payback for the bright pink lipstick mushed into his face. “Why don’t you take a seat on the toilet while I do this?”

“Oh crap.” Tom grimaced.

“C’mon, Tom! It’s just one day. We won’t force you to do anything else ridiculous for the rest of the week- _promise._ We’ll treat you like the most honored guest _ever._ ” Mark clasped his hands in front of him and batted his eyelashes at his brother.

Tom’s face twisted, but he eventually sighed. “All right, all right. Let’s just get this over with.” He closed the camera but held onto it as he took a seat. Letting the piece of tech rest in his lap, he stared up at Jack with a grudging crease between his brows. “You only get to use what’s left. That’s how much I used on you- that’s _fair._ ” He stated firmly.

“Of course, of course! I wouldn’t _dream_ of breaking open a new tube for you…” Jack uncapped the lipstick and twisted it up. “Okay, press your lips together and try not to sneeze…”

Jack held Tom’s chin lightly as he smeared the pink lipstick into the older man’s black mustache, the tip of his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration. He was sure Mark was recording it, so he didn’t bother to ask Tom to do it. “This is a lot harder to do neatly when the tip is already mashed up…” he remarked, attempting to sketch a curlicue twirl to the ends. It didn’t go very well.

Jack did eventually manage to create something he wasn’t completely horrified by, though the amount he was grinning should have given Tom a warning at the results. “Okay, so, uh, I’m an entertainer, not an artist… you can look in the mirror now.” Jack threw the remains of the lipstick in the trash. There wasn’t enough left to attempt to salvage, not even for touch ups.

“Oh my God this feels awful, this is terrible, I hate everything.” Mark was doing his damned best not to just keel over laughing as Tom moved immediately to the mirror. **_“JESUS CHRIST.”_**

Mark busted out with the hardest laugh he’d managed since Jack did the little leprechaun jig for him weeks ago. One arm wrapped firmly around his stomach while the other stubbornly held onto his phone. Tom leaned forward towards the mirror to leer at the monstrosity on his upper lip. He wiggled it. Mark was sent sputtering again. “I’M SENDING THIS TO MOM-”

“What?! You were _recording it_ ** _Mark you little shit give ME THAT PHONE!!!_** ” Tom wasn’t outright screaming at Mark; there was just a lot of embarrassed force in his tone. It was more hysterical than scary and made even moreso as Tom chased Mark straight out of the bathroom; the latter giggling all the while. “MARK!!”

“I’m sending it!!”

“MARK I’M GONNA BEAT YOU WITH A PILLOW!!!”

_“Nana nanana!!”_

Jack was left standing in the bathroom on his own. He looked at himself in the mirror, then raised a hand. “Wa-pish!” High-fiving his reflection at his successful mustaching of Thomas Fischbach, Jack hooked his thumbs in his pockets and wandered out after the brothers.

The garden was already decorated for Mark’s birthday. They had been creating a lot of the decorations in the weeks leading up to Tom’s arrival. Cardboard animatronics leered out from around the trees, and cutouts of goats and pictures of goats were _everywhere_. They’d hung a goat pinata from one of the trees, and Jack had drawn goats on a handful of balloons before he got bored and just let the rest of them be normal balloons. A pile of beautifully wrapped presents sat on a little folding table they’d dragged out to the garden, and Mark’s diamond play button and taco trophy were sitting in their places of pride.

Jack picked up a spool of streamers and whistled for Chica. He ripped off a long strand of the pink crepe and tied it around her neck in a lopsided bow. “There you go, girl, you look all beautiful for your daddy! Oi! Mark! Tom! We about ready to get things started, or are you still trying to assert your masculinity on each other!?”

Mark and Tom had chased each other out into the garden. They were _still_ running back and forth when Jack called Chica away from the brothers to give her a bow. By the time he shouted to them, Tom was trying to figure out how he could maneuver around the giant rhubarb next to the garden shed to get at Mark. Clearly, Mark was in his element.

“Haha, it’s sent, there’s no taking it back now!”

“You’re such a brat, Mark, oh my God.”

“You _love_ me.”

“Doesn’t make you any less of a brat.” Tom sighed. “Come on. We’ve got a party to get going. Let’s start before the clouds decide to come out again.” Both Fischbachs returned to Jack in the center of the garden. Mark looked far too pleased with himself.

“Reporting for party duty, Captain Jack! What’s first on the agenda? Didn’t we make up an outline or something?”

Jack held Chica back, keeping her from joining in the Fischbach fight and laughing the entire time. “Well, for starters, Mark, you need to be wearing _your_ costume so Tom doesn’t feel so bad. It’s hard to be the prettiest boy at the ball, which is why we gave that task to you. And I think we should do the Chica reunion scene first just to get it out of the way while she’s being a good girl and behaving and still has some energy.” Jack ruffled Chica’s ears and adjusted the bow.

“Oh crap, I almost forgot!” Mark dashed a few feet to a nearby table to snatch up his crown first and place it primly atop his prominent floof. Next came a cape, one a rich red that would have matched his old dye job with a fluffy white fringe. Truly the best for any king. On went the signature ASS-ASS glasses. As if he didn’t already look ridiculous enough, there was a pretty pink light up fairy wand waiting for him. With ribbons. It was beautiful.

“I will never understand what YouTube does to you people. _Never._ ” Tom breathed as his brother returned to them looking perfectly confident and proud with how stupid his outfit was.

“But _first_ , we need to talk about basic camera safety. Namely, having a safe word.” Jack was still smiling, but there was a serious bent to his tone. This was _important_. “I figured ‘Felix’ is something we’re not gonna say at this party, right? So if any of us say ‘Felix,’ that’s cue to _immediately_ turn off the cameras and put them down. This is supposed to be fun, not stressful.” Jack held Mark’s gaze for a moment before looking over to Tom. “That’s something you can use too. Mark and I threw our dignity out the window _years_ ago when we sold our souls to YouTube, but if we’re pushing things too far for you, feel free to Felix us.”

Thankfully, the hilarity of the moment didn’t derail the men from the severity of Jack’s explanation. They both gave a nod. “I’m pretty damn glad to hear that,” Tom said. “‘Cause it already looks like I’m gonna be wanting to toss myself into the river within the hour.”

“Once you start whoring your dignity out for views, it never stops,” Jack said sadly, shaking his head.

Jack actually liked it. This sort of goofy, off-the-wall craziness was what he always _thought_ about, but YouTube had given him the confidence to actually _do_ it, to embrace every last drop of his weirdness and show it to the entire world. He loved not having to hide any part of himself, loved having a welcoming community who embraced him wholeheartedly. They were always there for him, just like how Mark’s community was. Jack was fairly sure that if Mark hadn’t been so well-loved by his fans, his recovery wouldn’t have been nearly as fast. By and large, his community was coming around and policing themselves. Those sickening photos and videos of his time in the room almost never cropped up in the Markiplier tag anymore, and thankfully nobody was directly messaging them to Mark. Nobody in the community openly mocked Mark for what had happened to him, what they’d seen, and whenever members did start straying toward the inappropriate, the rest of the community spoke up (admittedly often in a roaring tidal wave of disapproval that probably sent the offender running for their lives) to silence them quickly.

The internet was never going to be completely safe for Mark ever again, but at least the little corner they’d carved out for themselves was becoming liveable.

Mark gave a solemn nod in agreement with Jack’s answer. Tom just shook his head again.

“Oh, c’mon, Tom! It’s not gonna be _that_ bad. We’re just gonna play some games, perform a few memes and open presents! And _eat cake._ Delicious cake, Tom. You can’t be upset about _that._ ” Mark wiggled his eyebrows at his brother. Tom merely puffed out a breath from between his lips. “I’ll keep the safe word in mind, but I don’t think I’ll have a problem with our recreation of the reunion. I’ll be way too distracted by Chica. Oh!! I should start my intro and then be interrupted by her beautiful doggy hugs and kisses! That’s what we should do!” Mark bounced up and down a bit; making his royal cape flutter.

Jack clapped his hands together, bouncing to his feet. “Okay, so, intro and reunion first? Tom, do you wanna try to film that? There’s a tripod to keep the camera steady, just get Mark in the frame and you should be good. Does Chica know how to speak? What if we start, and I’ll hold her and try to get her to interrupt with a bark, and you can be all confused and try again, and then on the third time you can notice her and we do a slo-mo running together?”

“Yeah, I can film it. Least I won’t have to be on camera again just yet.”

“Oh yeah, she knows how to speak all right. Speaks her mind all the time, dontcha girl?” Mark bent down to scrub affectionately at Chica’s head as Tom went to setup the camera. “That sounds like a great idea. No one knows she’s here yet, right? Everyone’ll think we got a new dog or something, but nope! Chica-bica came to Ireland with big brother Thomas! It’ll be _great._ ” Chica had no idea what the humans were talking about, but they said her name a lot so she was excited. All the attention was good too. There really wasn’t a doubt she would _nail_ Mark when it was her cue.

“C’mon, Chica, come back here, we gotta give you some space for a good run-up to daddy.” Jack drew Chica back away from Mark, keeping his fingers curled firmly in her collar. It wasn’t bad when it was around Chica’s golden neck, where it belonged. He _liked_ her collar on her. It suited her. He could forget how long it had been wrapped around Mark’s neck like this. Jack crouched beside Chica and grinned at Mark. “Okay, whenever you’re ready!”

Though Chica went willingly with Jack, it was obvious she wanted to stick close to Mark. She padded from paw to paw in her place, tail wagging enthusiastically, and let loose a soft whine or two. Mark gave her a reassuring little wave and made his way in front of the camera. Tom shot him a thumbs up from where he was positioned behind it. “Whenever you’re ready,” he echoed.

Mark took a moment to clench his fists and draw in a deep breath through his nose. The exhale flowed out of his slightly parted lips, and with it, all of his tension. His fists unclenched. His expression cleared much like the sky above them had. He looked at the camera and gave a nod to Tom. He raised his hand in his signature wave.

“Hello everybody! My name is Markiplier and today we-”

Jack prodded Chica, whispering _Speak!_ into her ear. She barked, and Mark’s expression flickered with confusion.

“...and today we’re going to celebrate my birthday! As you all know, I’m a rickety old man now, but-”

Jack called for another bark. Chica was even louder this time. Mark made a show of pausing his intro and looking around a bit. Slowly, he continued.

“...but that’s not going to stop me from having the craziest birthday vlog ever! And you’re all invited… to watch, anyway. Sorry, non-disclosure agreement prevents me from telling you where it is. Though by the time you watch this, it’ll be over anyway! Woo- oh, hang on.” Mark dug into his pocket and pulled out a party-popper. He used it, then threw his arms up. “Woo!! So first we-”

Jack didn’t even have to poke Chica for that. She let loose a flurry of barking, and he let her go, figuring the timing was right. Chica raced across the lawn and slammed into Mark. He went down in a flurry of cape and gold fur and wet kisses. He sputtered but dug his hands deep into her fur and hugged her close, faking a sob or two. Mark buried his face into her chest with muffled cries of “Oooh Chica-bica!!” and “My little pupperschnupp, oh my God, you’re here!!” Chica, oblivious to the contrivity of the scene, barked happily and buried Mark’s upper half beneath her bulk.

Tom filmed the precious moment for a bit longer before cutting off the recording. He was smiling from his spot at the tripod. “I’d say that’s a successful cut.”

“Tenouttaten!” Jack agreed, getting up and dusting doggy fur off his arms as he came back to Tom’s side. He tilted his head, watching Mark and Chica, and huffed a little. “Good thing _he’s_ not wearing these pink mustaches, or it’d end up coated in doggy fur.” He wiggled his mustache and grinned anyway. Mark and Chica’s second reunion was just as sweet as the first...and Mark wasn’t wearing the collar. At all. He’d filmed a scene for the entire internet with a bare neck (aside from the cape).

Jack couldn’t be more proud. His heart felt ready to burst out of his chest. He wanted to grab Mark in a hug. He resisted, instead gripping his own wrists tightly and letting Mark calm down with Chica again before speaking up. “So, birthday boy, what do you want to do first? Presents? Cake? Show off your garden? Pinata? Magic tricks? Party games?”

Eventually, Mark managed to push Chica off of him. He quickly got to his feet before she could try pinning him again but let a hand linger between her ears. He did his best to straighten out his birthday boy outfit as he considered the options. “I want to show them the garden! Get them familiar with the space before we start filming crazy shenanigans in it. We can show them the potato babies too!!”

Tom looked to Jack with a questioning expression. “...’potato babies’?”

Jack looked at Tom, then looked back to Mark. “I thought you took him out here yesterday? And you _didn’t_ introduce him to his potato nephews? Jesus Christ, Mark, you reintroduce _me_ to them whenever they grow a new leaf!”

Mark was very proud of his potato plants. Jack wasn’t entirely sure if it was genuine pride that he’d managed to grow something (in which case, did it have to be the _potatoes_ he named?), or if it was just epic trolling on Mark’s part, to be growing _potatoes_ in _Ireland_. Whatever the case, Jack needed to make sure it was very clear that he was _not_ the father of the potatoes in any capacity.

Nor the mother.

He had nothing to do with the potatoes.

“I wanted to surprise him! I showed him the veggies but I didn’t point out our _tuber children_ specifically. You, as their second parental guardian, _need_ to know when they’ve grown an extra inch. Or leaf. Or what have you.” Tom was staring at Mark as if his brother had been huffing too much Irish river gas or something. Nonetheless, he shook his head and conceded to the madness.

Jack sighed and held up his own camera. “Okay, let’s do this. Garden tour. Don’t point out the river.”

And so, for the next fifteen to twenty minutes, Mark went bounding excitedly around the garden with Chica in tow. “This is our willow tree! Isn’t it huuuuge?! Jack and I sit under it sometimes ‘cause it’s all shaded and awesome. Good picnic spot. And we’ve got two oak trees, which are pretty cool. They’ll be dropping acorns in the autumn. Then we’ll have a bunch of squirrels, and I can reclaim my title!”

“You’re still a nut anyway,” Tom offered.

“Says the peanut gallery! See, over here by the house, we’ve got _tons_ of ivy. And rose bushes! The blooms are starting to die off now because of summer but you can still spot a few.” Mark went around the entire perimeter of the space and didn’t pass up a single bit of flora; no matter how small or seemingly insignificant. “This stuff? Pineapple weed. Crazy name, but it tastes _awesome._ No joke. Look it up. Smells just like pineapples too. Took Jack _forever_ to get the difference.” He paused to shoot cameraman Jack a cheeky look and Tom snickered behind his hand.

Jack extended a hand into the camera’s view, holding up his middle finger at Mark. “Doofus over there goes _crazy_ when I pretend I don’t know the difference. Don’t let him convince you otherwise!”

“Who do you think is telling the truth? Let us know in the comments!” Mark quipped before continuing his tour. “I know the names of _everything_ here. Literally. I looked it all up and found out how to take care of the wild stuff and planted some new ones.” He ticked off the plants as they were “discovered”; brooklime and lady’s smock and gipsywort. Some were in bloom, others were just leaves, but Mark’s enthusiasm remained consistent for all. “We’ve even got forget-me-nots! And this _enormous_ rhubarb plant. Do you _see_ this thing?? It’s leaves are the size of Chica!! It could _eat Chica._ ” Mark exclaimed with a bit of arm flailing while Chica merely nipped curiously at the plant; proving it was harmless. That didn’t stop Tom from spitting out a reference.

_“Feed me, Marky.”_

Mark snorted. “And there, everybody, is my brother who _refuses_ to fool around on camera with me but can make shitty references to outdated cult classics. Way to raise the bar, Thomas.” To round out the tour, he shuffled to a specific spot in the garden. Here, the earth was more neatly cultivated and labeled with cute little signs Mark had drawn _himself_. “Here we’ve got some wild peppermint and spearmint. We use it sometimes for teas or salads and stuff but when I first found it, I rubbed the peppermint all over me and Jack thought I was hiding candy canes all day. _Hilarious._ But that’s not why I brought you over here.” Mark whispered conspiratorially.

He planted himself in front of the little vegetable garden and spread his arms out with a little flare of his cape for added effect. “ _This._ Is the veggie garden. The one I dug up and planted and nurtured with my _bare hands._ You can’t grow much in Ireland ‘cause of all the wet and not enough sun, but we’re growing a lot of root stuff. And one in particular I’m especially excited to talk about…” He stepped carefully to a part of the garden that was walled off with chicken wire.

Tom lightly elbowed Jack. “Here it comes. Want me to take the camera so you can get a handle on him?”

Jack turned a long-suffering look on Tom, silently passing over the camera. _I hate these potatoes,_ he mouthed.

Tom took the camera with a respectful nod. “Go salvage your dignity. The Green Giant must be stopped.”

Mark was already crouching over the seven little sprouts and pointing each one out to the camera. “ _These_ are the potato babies. Jeffery, Billy, Samwise, Marshall, Tim, Sam and, of course, Bubblebutt. You can tell which one’s Sam ‘cause he isn’t fully underground and you can see his little green top in the dirt there, just like-”

“-his daddy’s favorite color,” Jack interrupted, stepping in swiftly to clap a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Because contrary to popular belief, Markiplier’s favorite color is _green_ , and Sam knows it and loves his real dad.”

Mark immediately pouted up at Jack. He huffed and rose to his feet. “True as that may be, what I was _going_ to say before _Jack_ so rudely interrupted me was that Sam is just like his _other daddy._ Y’know, the _green one?_ The _Irish one?_ We made a commitment, Jack! You’re upsetting the spuchildren. The tuberkids. The rooty babies. Take responsibility!”

Tom, behind the camera, was losing it. “Oh my _fucking God,_ ** _Mark._** ”

“It was _one time_ , Mark, _Jesus_! I bought you the seeds you asked for! That doesn’t mean I’m responsible for the tatertots!” Jack prodded a finger at the camera, turning his pout toward the nonexistent audience. “Let this be a lesson, kids, _always use protection_. Even if you didn’t do anything...Mark, I demand a paternity test! Just because I’m Irish doesn’t automatically mean your potato babies have my genes!”

“One time is enough, Jack! You _brought them home._ How can you just disown them like this?” Mark gave a dramatic gasp. “And _call them that._ What is _wrong_ with you?! They can _hear you._ ” His voice dropped to an accusatory whisper. Tom and Chica were watching the proceedings with amusement and befuddlement, respectively. Mark faced the camera as well. “ _No,_ take this as a lesson, everyone. Don’t buy seeds if you aren’t prepared to take responsibility. I did all the hard work, Jack! The least you could do is support me. _And_ them.” He sniffed. In the background, Tom had started chanting _“Maury, Maury”_ just loudly enough for the camera to pick up.

“Oh Mark, Iplier, don’t cry. Aren’t I supporting you already? Giving you this big house, providing all this lovely dirt for the taytos to... _no_! No, you are not catching me up in this trap! I am not the father!” Pause. “Or the mother!” Longer pause. “DON’T LET PEWDIEPIE SEE MY SHAME!” He covered his face, careful not to press his hands against the pink mustache.

Mark looked like he was about to break character. His face was twitching. Jack, too, had trembling shoulders. Tom shook his head and cleared his throat, then cupped his free hand over his mouth in a shout. “Hey guys!! I think it’s about time for some cake!” Chica immediately perked up and redirected her gaze to Tom with a wagging tail.

Mark swung his head around to smile at the camera excitedly. “Did you say cake?! Cake solves _everything._ Right Jack? Let’s eat cake!!!” He dropped his hands on Jack’s shoulders and beamed at him.

“CAKE!” Jack threw both hands in the air, able to show his huge grin because _cake_ and not because he was cracking up over spuchildren and tatertots. He managed to hold it for half a minute before _dying_ , doubling over and wheezing in laughter. They could cut this bit. “ _Oh god_ , Mark, the shippers are going to _die_ …”

“You aren’t kidding! Holy crap, I didn’t mean to go all out like that, it just sort of happened! That was hilarious!!” Mark was laughing too, though not quite as raucously, and pulling off both pairs of glasses to rub at his eyes. He looked over at Tom. “You got all that, right?? You don’t think we overdid it?”

Tom rolled his eyes. He shut the view screen of the camera and shook his head. “I got it. And I think you two are absolutely _insane._ Your fangirls are gonna lose it. I hope you’re prepared for the consequences. I cut it off before you broke the mood, though. No worries there. I still say we should cut into that cake. Not that you two need the sugar or anything. I just don’t want us to forget about it.”

“Bah, that’s what editing is for,” Jack said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “As long as we can get through the scene without breaking mid-word or something, we can cut the rest out.” He reached down to give Sam’s leaves a pat. “And you know, maybe, Mark, _maybe_ I’ll claim this little potato as mine. But I had _nothing_ to do with the rest!”

The expression on Mark’s face told all. Some obscene combination of pride, excitement, joy, approval, smugness and just an all around silent “I told you so”/”Haha you agree with me” vibe. Tom pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hey lovebirds!! Cake, remember? Chop chop! We’re burning precious sunlight.”

The cake was inside, still loosely covered so Mark couldn't sneak a peek early. Jack made him cover his eyes, or at least turn around, before he brought it out. He crumpled the foil up and hid it under the table, then pushed a 2 and an 8 candle into Tim’s mitten like hands. He didn't light them yet, just snapped several pictures of the intact, finished cake before finally letting Mark turn around, with Tom filming again. “Ta-daaaa!” he trilled, giving jazz hands at the cake. “Tiny Box Tim came out for your birthday...just in time for us to _eat him_!” Oh Jesus. Anti really was coming out a _lot_ today.

Mark gasped. He openly gawked at the adorable cake with nothing short of complete awe and admiration on his face. He stood like that for approximately five seconds before the inhale had to come back out. And it did: in the form of several giddy cries and squeals. It rapidly devolved into a mixture of giggles as well when he eagerly stepped closer for a better look at all the details.

“ _Awwwwwww_ he’s so cute!! Lookit his little smile and his adorable hands, _ahhhhh!!_ He’s adorable. Impossibly _adorable._ I don’t even care that he’s not super tiny this is the _cutest fucking thing_ I think I’ve ever seen, and now I have to eat him _oh my God Jack how could you._ I bet he’s delicious, too. You evil _bastard._ ” Mark babbled while he swooned over the cake and generally did some flailing that set Chica to bounding about as well. He sucked in a breath just so he could let loose another soft _“eeeee”._

“I think you broke him, Jack!” Tom shouted as the invisible voice behind the camera.

Jack pointed at the cake, staring the camera down. “ _Proof_ ,” he said. “Proof that I am not a fail in the kitchen. And thank you to all of the cooking gurus who I messaged desperately yesterday when I was having decorating issues-- _lifesavers_ , all of you!” He was laughing though, grinning at Mark’s enthusiastic acceptance of the cake. It was better than Jack had hoped for, and he would gladly make a Tiny Box Tim cake every day for the rest of his life to make Mark squeal and flail and grin like that.

(It would grow old. Mark’s enthusiasm would wane. It would become a chore, both for Jack to make and for Mark to eat. They’d grow to hate it. Better not…)

“You can take a picture, if you want,” Jack offered, “but I didn’t make him to _not_ be eaten. You and your Funfetti demands…” He picked up a knife and brandished it at Tim threateningly. “You can have a picture, but then either you cut into him, or I will…”

“All right, all right. I concede that _maybe_ you’re better in the kitchen than I would initially believe. I mean, you _did_ make not only a Funfetti cake, but a _Tiny Box Tim_ cake on top of it. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed. Maybe you can cook a little more often in the kitchen, then!” Mark quipped from where he was still half-crouched over the cake; admiring and cooing over it. Out came the phone to snap several photos from various angles. He leaned down and snapped a selfie with it.

Tom caught it all on camera with a light eye roll of exasperation. “Mark, you can make triplicates of the photos _later._ Let’s cut into the thing before it melts. Or Jack murders someone. Either way.”

Mark directed an immediate pout to Jack as he put his phone away. “Jack!! Do we _have_ to? He’s my precious little biscuit! He served me so well in Amnesia. Watched my back and everything. Now I finally have him back, and you wanna cut him up into pieces?”

“Oh fine, _fine_ ,” Jack said, feigning exasperation. “I’ll put the knife down. We won’t cut him up...yet. We’ll just _light him on fire_!” Jack whipped out a lighter from his back pocket, flicking the flame and leaning over to light the candles. “Ready Tom? Happy birthday to you…!”

Mark’s expression went from relief to horror to giddiness all over again. He was smiling as Tom joined in to sing with Jack.

Jack leaned over and picked up his megaphone from where he’d hidden it in a chair earlier. He grinned at Mark before lifting it to his mouth to continue the song. “ _HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR MARKIPLIER!_ ”

(Just over the fence, a disgruntled neighbor was frowning at them.)

There was a barely caught mutter of _“Oh my God.”_ from Tom as Mark’s face dropped. “ _Jack,_ ** _no-_** ” Too late. Chica immediately began to howl. Mark comically covered his ears. The camera swiveled around to briefly zoom in on the neighbor squinting at them from over the fence. Tom’s wince was practically audible.

“ _Happy birthday to you._ Great. Hey loudmouth, you’re disturbing the neighbors.” Tom jerked a thumb off-camera at the older woman staring them all down.

Mark turned to take a look and beamed at the surprise “guest”. He lifted a hand in a wave. “Hi, Mrs. McDonald! It’s my birthday!!” He said it almost exactly like a little kid would and Tom’s snort was easily heard in the background.

“Sorry Mrs. McDonald!” Jack shouted through the megaphone, but he lifted his hand to wave at their neighbor too, finally dropping the megaphone. “Want some cake? It’s homemade!”

Mrs. McDonald shook her head at the rambunctious boys, but she did lift her hand to wave back. She was a nice old lady. Jack helped her bring her shopping back if they were on the bus together, and he knew Mark saw her a lot when they both worked in their respective gardens. She was allowed to be crotchety as long as she didn’t ruin Mark’s birthday.

(so far, she was only improving things).

Jack picked up the knife again and gestured to the cake. “Make a wish, Mark!”

“I wish you wouldn’t stab my adorable little biscuit!!” Mark half-wailed. It was clearly just theatrics. Chica seemed a _little_ concerned, but she was mostly focused on the cake. Of course.

“Just cut the thing already. The longer you hold it off, the more he’s gonna blubber. He’ll stop once he’s stuffing his face with it.” Tom called out.

“If you say it out loud, it won’t come true!” Jack plucked the candles out of Tim’s hands after Mark had blown them out and brought the knife down across the bottom of the box. He sliced them all thick, large pieces of the cake, two layers of funfetti with strawberry jam between them, slathered in chocolate frosting. The first piece, from the corner, Jack transferred onto a plate and offered to Mark.

“For you, birthday princess, the greatest frosting-to-cake ratio.”

Mark was making a real show out of being both horrified and despairing at the same time while Jack mercilessly cut into the cake. However, as soon as Jack offered him the enormous, frosting-slathered piece his attitude changed. He brightened up and accepted the plate with a quiet “Oh _Hell_ yes.” that could just barely be heard as Tom moved closer with the camera. Mark wasted no time stabbing his piece with a fork. “Tim, I salute you, for you’ve made a _very_ worthy self-sacrifice this day.”

“How does he taste?” Tom prodded.

Mark’s answer was garbled around a large bite he’d promptly shoveled into his mouth: _“Fucking delicious.”_

“Victory!” Jack pumped his fist in the air. “Jackaboy wins! Best cake maker evaaaa!” He looked away from Mark heartily devouring his piece to cut slices for Tom and himself, and then an extra piece for Mrs. McDonald. It was the least he could do, after all the ruckus they had planned. He had to stand on his toes to pass it over the tall fence separating their yards, but the old lady accepted it with her thanks and best wishes to the birthday boy.

Jack returned to the table with the others, gesturing for Tom to set up the camera on the tripod so they could all eat cake without worrying about who was filming. “Mm, Tim, you really _are_ delicious. Best mascot ever. Sam would taste all ick and septic, but Tim really is a little biscuit…”

Tom stopped the recording. He reattached the camera to its tripod and joined the others by the table so he could dig in as well. He hummed. “Not bad. I mean, it _is_ still Funfetti. Whose idea was that? Of all flavors?”

Mark’s amused snort told all. Chica sat diligently at his feet, watching him, waiting for the first sign of _any_ spillage that could be gobbled up. “Do we have anything for Chica to nibble on? She should get to have cake too!”

Jack pointed at Mark. “I’ve never even _had_ Funfetti cake before. Can Chica have some of the inside of the cake? If we give her a piece that hasn’t touched the chocolate?”

Tom considered for a moment. “This is a job for Google.”

Mark perked up as Tom pulled out his phone. “Did someone say-”

“No. No Googleplier. Just eat your cake, Mark. This is why they invented smart phones. Okay, it looks like… the strawberry jam is fine. Strawberries are actually good for dogs. The Funfetti shouldn’t be a big deal either, just don’t give her a lot. You know what? Let me do it. I know you, Mark. You’ve got ‘sucker’ written on your forehead.”

Jack chuckled as Tom googled the answer. He leaned over to snag the camera, switching it back on and turning it so all three of them were in the shot. “While we’re eating, this might be a perfect time for a new segment!” He popped a forkful of cake into his mouth and jazz-handed while he swallowed. “Learning Languages with Tomiplier!”

Oh yes, Tom. They had plans for getting Tom on camera, pink mustache and all.

“So, Thomas.” Jack steepled his fingers, tapping his forefingers against his lips. “How would one say... _happy birthday_ in Korean?”

Tom pocketed his phone and moved to cut Chica a little, _chocolate free,_ slice of cake. In doing so, he utterly failed to realize Jack had him on camera again until it was too late. The slice fell right out of his hands into the grass- not that Chica minded. He sputtered. “Wait, hang on-”

Mark was laughing into his cake. He gave Tom a nudge with his elbow. “Oh c’mon, Tom! You get to _teach_ people! They’re _learning_ things. It’s just some Korean.”

“I _know_ it’s just Korean.” Tom mumbled while he shuffled his feet a bit.

“Okay. Well, wasn’t it something like… _sungoo chukkanay?_ ” Little bits of cake fell from Mark’s mouth. Tom looked exasperated.

“What? No. Oh my God, Mark, you _just_ heard it this morning. It’s _saengil chukhahae-_ oh God damn it.” He’d walked right into that one. Tom’s cheeks went a smidge pink while Mark laughed. “No, no, listen okay don’t go spouting that at any Korean person you know, because it’s the _really informal_ version. I don’t know the other kind off-hand but you gotta watch with other cultures. You could insult someone. Seriously.”

“Saengil chukhahae!” Jack trilled to Mark, clapping his hands together and giving a little bob of his head. “And that was Learning Languages with Tomiplier! Next time on Learning Languages: Irish! _Breithlá sona_!”

Mark was beaming. Jack glanced over at Tom and gave a deliberate cough, circling his hand at the older man. “All together now: _Breithlá sona!_ _Breiiithlá sooooona_.”

Both Americans stared at Jack like he’d grown a second head. Then they exchanged glances. Mark gave a little shrug. _“Braylaw suhnuh!”_

“You’re impossible.” Tom deadpanned, glanced at Jack, and then sighed in defeat. _“Breithla sona.”_ His pronunciation was a bit off, but not nearly so bad as Mark’s.

Jack gave the pair a flat look and then shook his head, turning back to the camera. “Why do I even bother? _Breithlá sona. Croí folláin agus gob fliuch._ And that was Learning Languages with Tomiplier! Next time on Learning Languages: German!” Jack extended his hands to both the Fischbach brothers, wondering if either of them even knew how to say happy birthday in German.

Both brothers stared at Jack again. Tom let loose a fresh sigh; Mark was _still_ beaming like a little shit. They ended up speaking together- with Mark completely drowning out Tom in the process.

“It’s something like _Herzlichen Gluckwunschhhhh…_ uhhh…”

_“Schwanz!!”_

**_“Mark.”_** The younger Fischbach’s low chuckling told all.

“That is _not_ how you say happy birthday in German!” Jack told the camera with a grin and a waggle of his finger. “It is definitely not something you’d want to say in front of your mother!  And that was Learning Languages with Tomiplier!” Jack held his grin for a beat before giggling, turning his smile on Mark. “You’re a dirty doof, Markiplier! Think of the kiddies!”

“Hey now, listen, anyone watching this vlog is probably someone who watches my usual stuff. If they aren’t used to the dick jokes by now then I don’t know what to tell them.” Mark shrugged; still hosting a childish, giddy expression.

Tom shook his head and moved to switch off the camera again. “Let’s eat this cake before the bugs get to it.”

“Just watch some kid smart enough not to say ‘dicks’ in front of their parents say _schwanz_ in front of someone who knows German, thinking they're being nice…” Jack laughed, digging into his cake. “Mmf!” He pressed two fingers to his lips, choking cake and laughter together. “My mustache!”

Tom and Jack had touch up each other's respective pink mustaches after finishing up their cake. Afterwards, the boys cleaned up the leftovers. Well, Tom started clearing the space for the next segment while Mark and Jack screwed around in front of the camera. They both had their glasses up close to the lens so it could make out the tiny boat-shaped ice cubes.

Mark gave a very soft, slow whistle as he pushed one of the little boats down towards the bottom of his cup. It was a parody of both the Titanic sinking _and_ stop motion animation. “Should’ve watched out for that boat-shaped iceberg. Tragedy strikes again. At least they’re all drowning in iced tea this time. What do you think, Jack?”

“Hang on, people! Rescue is coming!” Jack bumped one of his ships into the side of the glass, trying futilely to reach Mark's. “Oh noooo! They're all going to drown! Ahhh! Psheeeew!” Jack sank his own ship into the depths of his drink. “Ahhh! Ahhh! Nooooo!”

“Oh nooo! Now there won’t be rescue for anyone! We’re all going to diiiiiie. Jack. Jack, hold onto me, it’s gonna be okay. I’m not gonna let you drown.” Tom was squinting at the pair in the background; expression pure disapproval. (That was going to become a meme. He would be _mortified._ )

“I'll never let you go, Mark! I'll never let you...is that a _goat_?” Jack's high-pitched ice-person voice was easily distracted. “It _is_! A goat! Hang on, goat! I'm coming!” Jack reached into his glass and fished out a ship, flying it into one of the goat paper plates he had acquired for the party. “I'll never let you go, goat!”

“... _Jack you stole my line_ ** _and ruined the joke with your stupid goats!!!_** ” Mark outright whined even though his lips were viciously twitching with the urge to laugh or grin. Mark fished out one of his own ships to flick at Jack. “I’m gonna sink your battleship for this!!”

 _“Oh my God if you two keep this shit up_ ** _I’m going to walk home!!_** And I mean _USA_ home. Don’t think I won’t. I will channel the literal embodiment of Jesus Christ and walk across miles of ocean if you two don’t move your butts and _help me set this crap up._ ” Tom’s voice had gone into full blown “adult” mode. Chica was just hopping about in the background with him trying to catch the flying ships.

Jack looked over at Mark, caught his eye and just dissolved into childish giggles. “I think Dad's calling,” he stage-whispered for the camera. “We're in trouble now!”

“Oh crap, we really pissed off the grump monster this time. I hope he doesn’t drag us off by our ears like some crotchety old school teacher.” Mark staged-whispered right back with just as much suppressed giggling.

Giggles or not, Jack did flick one last iceberg at Mark before shaking his fingers off and wandering over to help Tom clear away the food to set up the world's worst magic show. He hadn't practiced any of the tricks on his magic kit after his first Power Hour, but he was going to pretend he had, damnit!

Mark plopped onto the grass with Chica where he could sip at his iced tea and watch.

“If we needed a supervisor, you’d probably be the last person we called, Mark.” Tom drawled in the same grumpy tone as before while he continued aiding Jack.

Mark just shrugged. “Who says I’m even doing that much? You two are great! Keep up the good work!”

The magic show wasn’t going to be that exciting, but they were still putting in the effort to make it look at least partially professional...by spreading flattened cardboard boxes over the grass to create a “stage.” They dragged the cardboard goats and animatronics around, and Jack gave Tom a goat pinata to tie to one of the branches of the oak tree over their heads.

“Need my motherfucking kitty cat mask,” Jack said as he pulled on his cat mask from his magic video. “How does it look, Tom? Meow!” The mask had...seen better days. Jack hadn’t really bothered to store it properly, and it was only thick paper. There was a crease across one cheek, and he had doodled on the side with a blue marker while waiting for something to load. Still. Mask. Cape. Magician.

“...I'm a digital artist. Crafts aren't my thing. Nice doodle.” Tom shook his head as he moved to sit beside Mark and Chica.

Jack stuck his tongue out and hissed at Tom. “Okay, okay, go sit in the audience!” Jack set his magic kit on top of an upturned box that was his podium. “It’s time for magic, bitches!”

Mark had his hand on the retriever so she wouldn't jump up and try to pounce on whatever trick Jack was going to pull. He lifted his glass in support. “Go knock’em dead, you Irish Mysterio!”

Jack bowed, sweeping his cape back. “And now, ladies and gentleman and people of all genders! A trick sure to wow and amaze your friends!” Jack looked around exaggeratedly. “And people you coerced to being your audience by bribing them with cake! Ta-daaaa!” He pulled a rubber band with a metal ring on it out of his box. Oh god, he hated this trick, but he could sort of do it...and he liked his own ending better.

“Just an ordinary metal ring, on an ordinary rubber band, right, right? _No_! This ring is MAGIC. It can DEFY GRAVITY! Watch!” Jack stretched the band between his hands, pulling on one side to make the ring start crawling up the rubber. “AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!”

“YEEEAAAH!!! Look at that, Tom!! Isn't he amazing??” Jack couldn’t tell if Mark was being sarcastic or not. He hoped Mark wasn’t _really_ impressed by this trick. Chica gave a few barks of her own in approval; tail wagging.

“...woohoo!”

Jack had to laugh at _actually_ having a crowd _actually_ going semi-wild, even though it was obviously not because of his _amazing_ magic trick. He stretched out the rubber band even further, then released it and it flew off over the fence. “Woo, look at it go! Defying gravity! Uh… SORRY MRS. MCDONALD! THAT WASN’T US!”

“Well I'm not gonna be the one to get it back.”

“Oh come on, Tom! That was funny! It's magic _and_ humor!! Y'know, like Penn and Teller. Laugh!” Mark emphasized a low chuckle as if his brother had forgotten how. Tom just sent him a sidelong glance.

Jack bowed to his excited audience, basking in Mark’s cheers and Chica’s barks and _loving_ Tom’s stare of _oh god kill me now_. “AND NOW, FOR THE PIECE DE RESISTANCE!” Jack picked up his deck of magical mind-reading cards, stuck it behind his back, and then whipped it out with a flourish. “I WILL GUESS YOUR CARD!”

He dumped the cards into his hand and chucked the box over his shoulder (it hit Bonnie and made Tom smile). He fanned out the cards and offered them into the audience. “You, birthday princess! Pick a card! Don’t tell me what it is!”

Mark leapt to his feet. He practically danced forward so he could examine the cards with a serious expression. “Hmmm…. _Hmmm….”_

“Just _pick a card_ already, Mark!”

“Fine, fine, fine! Geez! Don't rush me.” Mark turned to stick his tongue out at Tom. Tom returned the gesture. After a few more seconds of debate, Mark clearly picked the Jack of Hearts for the audience. Judging from the slight smugness in his expression, he thought he was being clever. “This one.”

“Memorize your card! Don’t forget it now!” Jack took the card back from Mark, turning it so the camera could get the shot but he couldn’t see what it was. “Okay, now…” He threw the rest of the cards behind him as well. Who needed those? Now he just needed to remember how to read the marks on the back of the card…

…

Was that a heart? Or a diamond? Heart. Maybe? Or maybe it was the spade? Yeah...maybe he should have reread the guide first. _Fuck it_. “OH MY GOD IS THAT A SWAN!?” Jack pointed wildly off-camera, trusting Mark to...yup, look for the non-existent swan. Jack quickly flipped the card to catch a glimpse of it, then had it facing the camera again by the time Mark looked back. Tom was busy facepalming off-camera. Mark looked suspicious.

“Nope, just a duck. False alarm. But back to the PIECE DE RESISTANCE!” Jack deliberately mangled the French accent on the words. “Markiplier, is your card...the _Jack of Hearts_?” He flipped the card around again to see it and threw it in the air. “AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!”

Mark’s expression went stunned and threw his arms into the air. Jack knew exactly what he was about to say and threw his own hands up, shouting aloud with Mark.

_“Oh my Gooooooooood!!!”_

The sound triggered a few brief howls from Chica. With hilarious comedic pacing and timing, Tom had turned around to slowly inch his face in front of the camera. He stared straight into it just like the meme implied. Then he reached around to stop the recording. “Just a heads up that I am _not_ cleaning up your mess this time.”

Mark leaned in to whisper at Jack’s ear. “You guys got the pinata out. Why don’t we use it? I’ve got a great opening joke for Mr. Grumpy Giblets over there….”

The pinata. Jack glanced back at the paper mache goat. He’d had to buy stuff to fill it with, so he had of course picked every last goat-themed party favor he could find (without telling Mark). He’d ended up with a lot of farm-themed stuff. There was some candy too, and giant bouncy balls, and really, it was going to be a lot of fun and Mark was probably going to throw stuff.

Jack grinned.

“I’ll turn the camera back on,” he whispered to Mark. There were cards everywhere. He could use picking them up as an excuse to get over to the camera and stealthily restart the recording before Tom noticed.

Mark beamed at Jack and gave him a subtle thumbs up on the side Tom couldn’t see. Mark turned back to his brother and waved him over. “Hey Tom! Tom!! Jack’s gonna pick up his cards and all but can you help me make sure this pinata’s secured right? I mean, you know I love this garden. I’d be _pissed_ if one of the oak’s branches was hurt because of a faulty tie…. I mean, are you _sure_ this one’s thick enough??”

Tom gave the longest suffering sigh imaginable and grudgingly got to his feet. Chica stood to pad after him so she could be by her favorite hooman again. “Mark. The branch is _fine._ Look at it. The thing’s not even _moving._ Just because I haven’t put one of these up in like, _years,_ that doesn’t mean I forgot how.”

Jack pushed his cat mask up, rucking up his green hair, before he began gathering cards, working his way around and closer to the camera. It was a piece of cake to start the recording again. The camera was already pointed in the right direction, but Jack gave it a small adjustment just to better frame the shot. If Tom asked, he’d just say he was checking on the battery life. Yeah. Looking good.

Camera in place, Jack kept moving, still gathering up cards, careful not to get in the way of the view. He kept an eye on Mark, wondering what Mark was going to get Tom to do.

“Okaaaay but, I mean, these are _Irish trees._ Maybe they’re different from American ones! I think you should test it. Like, give a swing at the pinata and see if the branch creaks or anything when it moves. Don’t break it, though! That’s _my_ job.” Mark struck a confident pose. Chica was busily sniffing at the tree.

Tom stared Mark down hard for several moments before letting loose a begrudging sound. “ _Fine._ Fine, I’ll check it, if only you’ll quit asking about it. You’re lucky it’s your birthday, _aesaekki._ ” He shuffled over to the big, wooden stick they’d left leaning against the tree while Mark countered with a simple “Love you too, bro.” and a thumbs-up towards the camera. He repeated the action to Jack but was then the picture of innocence by the time Tom turned to face him again. He was looking up at the pinata as if it had personally wronged him. “If I tap it with the bat will you just try hitting the thing?”

“ _Totally._ I’ll let you put the blindfold on me and everything.” Mark gave an enthusiastic nod.

Huffing softly, Tom stepped closer to the pinata and raised the stick. Mark cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted directly into his brother’s ear.

“Wow Tom, so good to see you finally got that massive stick out of your ass!!”

Off-camera, Jack _cackled_ , almost throwing the cards in his hands again in glee...but he’d just have to pick them up again, so he didn’t. “Tom, Tom, remember he’s the birthday princess! You can’t beat the birthday princess on his birthday! Wait until tomorrow!”

They were _really_ going to have to make this up to Tom. Jack would even set an alarm so he could definitely wake up and make breakfast for the older man. But Tom hadn’t said ‘Felix,’ so it wasn’t too much. Of course, Tom might not have realized the camera was recording again…

Mark was doing really well though. He hadn’t reached for his neck _once_ that Jack had seen, and Chica was still bounding around with the pink collar. Mark hadn’t called for a break from filming, and he was actually starting to ham it up for the camera again. Maybe this was all he needed, a push to get through the initial awkwardness and then a lot of laughter to remember that making videos, especially stupid shit post videos, was _fun_.

Tom focused a spine-chilling glower on the younger Fischbach for a handful of seconds but expelled his burning anger with a long exhale from his mouth. His grip on the stick loosened. Tom waited until Mark’s own laughter had died down to snickers and emphatically shoved the stick at him. “Turn around, birthday boy.”

Mark fumbled with the stick, but he was still smiling. He obediently turned around and removed his glasses. “Just watch the knot, please.”

“Don’t forget: as the one blindfolding you, I get to spin you around too. Hope you can keep that cake down.” The moment the blindfold was set, Tom proceeded to spin Mark around. By the time he was satisfied, Mark was swaying and near stumbling on his feet with dizziness. His hands were clutching the stick while his mouth hung open; breathing heavily. “Mark??”

Tom dared another step closer; hands slightly outstretched but hesitant.

“Mark?”

 _“Felix.”_ The word was quiet.

Jack looked up at the “stage” when Tom called Mark’s name, lunging for the camera even before Mark called the safeword. Mark was rigid and shaking, clear signs of an impending panic attack. “Get the blindfold off! Mark, get it off, you can take it off, it’s okay.” Jack stopped the recording and spun the camera on its tripod so it wasn’t facing Mark at all.

“ _Jack,_ turn off the camera! Mark. _Mark._ What’s wrong?? You gotta help me out here. Oh my _fuck,_ the goddamn blindfold, _Mark._ ”

“Camera’s off, Mark, it’s okay, you’re okay. Take the blindfold off and sit down, just breathe, okay? Chica! Chica, c’mere girl!” Jack approached the brothers slowly, talking to Mark as calmly as he could as he called for the dog. “Mark, sit down, feel the grass, deep breaths in and out. It’s gonna be fine.”

Slowly, Mark’s legs folded beneath him and he slowly sunk down to the grass like Jack suggested. The blindfold had been a bit of a risk, but Mark had insisted on trying it when they were getting the supplies. Jack should have known better, from how badly Mark had reacted to keeping his eyes shut yesterday when he was reacquainted with Chica. He dropped to his knees beside Mark, stretching out his hands without touching. “I’m right here, Mark. Tom’s on your other side. Here’s Chica. You’re surrounded by your family and friends. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Mark drew several trembling breaths before he pulled off the blindfold and let it fall to the grass. He hugged Chica close and buried his face deep into her fur. She nosed affectionately at his hair with a soft whine. Mark shuddered. “I-I’m okay… I’m okay….”

Tom looked to Jack for some sort of guidance and shuffled quietly around Mark to fetch his brother’s glasses.

Jack glanced over at Tom and gave a nod, yes, glasses were good. He shifted around in the grass to be in front of Mark again, still holding his hands out in front of Mark for when he decided to reach for more than just Chica. “Good, that’s good. We’re all okay here. Tom’s got your glasses, just to your right. Nobody’s hurt. Everything’s okay.”

He kept talking as Mark calmed down, repeated the same reassurances over and over, letting Mark just hear the tone of his voice and reorient himself. “It’s okay, Mark. Everything happened as it was supposed to. You said the safe word, and everything stopped immediately, right?”

Tom rounded back to Mark with the glasses in tow and crouched down like Jack was. He silently offered the glasses. Chica was perfectly content to let Mark nuzzle into her fur and cling tightly to her stocky frame.

Mark reached out to fumble for his glasses. Tom adjusted his positioning until Mark could take the accessory and Mark gave a hesitant nod against Chica’s fur. He peeked over Chica’s back with his glasses clenched tightly in his fist. “Sorry… I-I thought it would work. I thought I’d be-e fine….” He sniffled softly. “...it’s so much ha-arder, in the dark….”

“Yeah, well, we hoped too. But it’s okay. We can whack the pinata without blindfolds, or just cut that bit out of the vlog entirely.” Jack waved a hand dismissively. The pinata was the least of their worries right now. “You didn’t get lost, Mark, that’s what counts. You were able to pull out of it. You keep getting better and better. Tom didn’t have a heart attack that time!”

Mark glanced at Tom, who had rolled his eyes. “Sorry, Tom….”

Tom immediately shook his head and waved a dismissive hand of his own. “Don’t. I’m fine, really. I’m glad you’re okay. You don’t have to apologize for something beyond your control. Besides, Jack is right. You _did_ control the aftermath. You came back. That takes a lot of strength, Mark.” Tom managed a small smile. “I’m really proud of you.”

Mark sniffled miserably. “ _Toooom,_ don’t say that, I’m a-already so emotional. You fucking asshole.” His lips wibbled and he slipped on his glasses.

Always look on the bright side, that was Jack’s motto. Well, one of them. “He might actually believe us now when we say this is more typical for you these days. You’re getting better, Mark.” Jack beamed at Mark, still wearing the cat mask on his head and the cape around his shoulders, completely uncaring of how much of a doof he had to look with his hair messed up and half a tube of pink lipstick mashed into his mustache. “Want a goat-pkin to blow your nose?”

Mark sputtered with abject indignation. “Jack, _no._ ”

“Did you really just say ‘goat-pkin’? Take that thing off your head. It’s cutting off circulation to your brain,” Tom deadpanned.

Jack sighed, pulling the cat mask off...and then lunging at Tom to snap the elastic around his head. “HA, you have to wear it now! I’mma get you both some goat-pkins.” Jack bounced to his feet and headed to the table to grab a fistful of the goat-emblazoned napkins. Tom outright _flailed_ and then landed on his ass with a surprised grunt. _“Jack!!”_ The name was a bit muffled by the thick paper now covering a majority of his face. He pulled the thing off and tossed it aside to the sound of Mark’s amused snickering. All Tom could muster was a _look_ at his brother with half its usual heat. Mark was still hugging Chica, but now he had his chin tucked over the slant of her spine so he could watch them.

He offered one to Mark and waved another at Tom. “Look, see? Goats on napkins. Goat-napkins. Goat-pkins. It’s _genius._ Mark, tell him I’m a genius.”

If only they could get _that_ on camera, Markiplier announcing that Jacksepticeye was a smarty-pants.

Jack wouldn’t suggest it though. Not when Mark was so close to possibly laughing.

When Jack returned with the napkins alongside a cheerful explanation, Tom looked anything but humored. Mark was plain exasperated but he used the napkin to blow at his nose anyway. Take that, goats. “You’re a certain sorta genius, that’s for sure. A real _special_ one, Jack.”

“Would it really be saying much if an idiot called someone a genius anyway?” Tom teased with a quirked brow. Mark choked out a half-chuckle and threw his used napkin at him in retaliation.

Jack crumpled up his goat-pkin and threw it at Tom too. “Aww, shut up! He’s practically an engineer! Them’s smarty-smarts!” Practically. Ha. Mark’s failed engineer aspirations were a long-running joke on his channel. Jack was happy to play it up.

“Feeling up to taking another whack at the pinata, Mark?” Jack asked. “Or do we want to shelve that idea? We could set it up again, without the blindfold at all. The viewers will never know the difference.”

Tom sighed. “I’ll even let you make that stupid joke again. About the stick up my ass. Little shit.”  
  
Mark giggled into Chica’s fur but ended up shaking his head. “I think… I need a little break. From the camera. I don’t know if I can be in front of it again just yet. But… I still want to break the pinata. We can skip it for the vlog. But I want to do it.”

“Well, Markiplier, time to drag this stick out of the grass and show it what-for,” Jack said, picking up the stick and offering it to Mark. “Let’s get some aggression out. If you can’t break it in...five whacks, Tom and I play rock paper scissors to decide who gets the next crack at it. Sound good?”

Jack honestly had no idea how hard it would be to break the pinata without a blindfold. Five whacks should be good stress relief for Mark. “And then maybe presents?”

Mark’s move to take the stick was hesitant and slow, but his confidence bolstered once it was gripped firmly in his hand. He looked up at the pinata as if it was taunting him and gave a nod. “I’m gonna beat its ass in three. Then we can stuff candy in our faces.”

Tom shook his head and stayed in the grass while Mark rose to his feet. “Seriously. What _is_ it with you and goats? You never hated them before. Or even particularly _disliked_ them, from what I knew. Did they invade the garden or something?”

“I suggested we get a goat instead of a lawnmower,” Jack told Tom, watching Mark get up and approach the goat menacingly. “He seemed to take it as a slight on his manhood, and...well…” Jack looked around, then gestured at the garden with a lost expression. “Now I have a lovely garden. And apparently a lawnmower. But I keep threatening to get him goats. And he keeps quoting Titanic at me and… heh.”

Tom’s expression was saying more than his words ever could. Jack gave him a sheepish smile and a shrug. “It’s just become our thing? I guess? Goats? Also swans. They’re dangerous. Mark doesn’t believe me, but that’s really not a joke. Swans are some motherfucking scary ass shit, man. Do not mess with the swan.”

“...I think you two were left alone with each other for _way_ too long. Maybe it’s some new strain of cabin fever- cottage fever? Sounds about right. Hope I don’t catch it before I head home. They might quarantine me at the airport….”

“Tom, shut up and watch me beat the crap out of this stupid goat!” Mark called over his shoulder. Giving the stick a few practice swings, he stepped forward and launched the first attack. The narrow wood smacked into the side of the pinata’s body. Strips of paper flew off and the goat was sent swinging around wildly on its rope. Mark growled softly under his breath. “Eat it!!” Another thwack; some of the structure beneath crumpled.

Chica was on her feet again; barking. Tom just sat back and watched his brother beat a poor, inanimate object with slightly raised eyebrows. “...does this count as animal abuse? I almost feel sorry for the pinata.”

“I should’ve put a mask on it,” Jack muttered, watching Mark attack the pinata. “Fuck. We need to do this more. Find things for him to beat up. Virtual just isn’t gonna cut it.” They’d been trying to work out Mark’s pent up emotions ever since Maggie’s visit, since that night when they realized that keeping Mark on an even keel wasn’t the best thing for _Mark’s_ sanity. Mark had a punching bag in the shed now, and some exercise equipment, and he and Jack were trying to learn self-defense, but Mark didn’t really get a chance to _attack_ things like this. “I’m gonna have to buy a pinata every time I go to the shops. Rumors are going to start. It’s gonna be crazy.”

If it were for Mark, it would be worth it.

“Might’ve triggered him. Like the sentiment, though.” Tom hummed in agreement while Mark went to town on the pinata. Neither of them were keeping count. They both knew this was, in a way, therapeutic for Mark. Tom was content to watch and chat. “Could get one of those toys that bounce back whenever you smack it. Draw a stupid face on it for him. Might feel better than a blank slate like a punching bag.”

Jack grinned and nudged Tom with his elbow. “Wait until you see what I filled it with!”

“When you say things like that, I’ve come to feel half-concerned and half-terrified.”

Jack just smirked at Tom and turned back to watch the show as Mark killed the pinata.

“I’m gonna wipe that smug look off your stupid papery goat face!! Bet that one hurt! You’ll  be feeling it tomorrow… oh wait, there is no tomorrow for you! Only destruction!” Mark kept wailing on the pinata, beating it with a grim ferocity.

“Mark, you’re disturbing the neighbors! Just put it out of its misery already!”

“Don’t tell me how to live my life, Tom!!” A few rapid smacks later, the colorful goat finally submitted to its fate. The stick tore straight through its crumpled middle; sending bits of cardboard and paper flying. Chica chased down the fallen half with loud, excited barking while Mark bent to triumphantly examine his sweet loot. He stared.

And stared.

“...Jack, you _fucking shitheaded asshole_ I cannot **_believe_** you would do this to me. On my own birthday. You sadistic _bastard._ ”

“Oh Christ, what is it? Am I gonna have to kick his… ass… for you… goats. Seriously.” Tom had gotten up to go see what the problem was and, of course, the grass was littered with goat-themed bits and bobbles. Candies, toys, little erasers and whistles and whatever else Jack could get his hands on. Both Fischbachs were flummoxed.

“GOAT PARTY!” Jack threw his hands in the air as the goats showered down, cackling maniacally. Mark’s expression was _priceless_. So was Tom’s, for that matter. And Chica was already enjoying the destroyed goat ass and big bouncy balls popping everywhere.

The brothers stared at him. He grinned. “Hey, I put candy in there too.” There were little boxes of Bean Boozled jelly beans (and chocolate and sherbert lemons and all kinds of other yummy treats...but mostly goats). “What? You guys honestly thought there’d be something else? It’s a _goat pinata._ At a _goat-themed party…_ ”

“I really need to just stop trying to understand how you two work.” Tom sighed with a shake of his head. He snatched up his pittance of candy and went to make sure Chica didn’t swallow any cardboard or paper in her goal to shred half the pinata to absolute bits. “Chica. Chica no, don’t eat that, c’mere…”

“Jack….” Mark slowly rose from his bent over position. Thankfully, he’d dropped the stick; vouching instead for several of the little bouncy balls. “I hope you realize… this means _war._ ” Whipping around, he chucked one of the balls at Jack’s prone form. He didn’t stop at one, though, and ran at Jack as he continued his onslaught. “I’m gonna get you for this you goat loving little leprechaun!!” He deepened and roughened his voice so his next reference would stick all the better. _“Get over here!”_

Jack yelped at the first ball, scrambling to his feet. “Oi, hey, _hey_ , you left me in charge, _what were you expecting_!?” He was laughing as he ran away from Mark, leading him on a chase around the garden and trying to fling playing cards like shurikens back at Mark. “No, no, ahhh!”

Tom was ignored as Jack fled, ducking behind the oak tree to try to use it as a shield. It was very hard to catch his breath while laughing as he ran, but the expression on Mark’s face made it all worthwhile.

“I was expecting some _mercy_ on my friggin’ _birthday!!_ ” Mark countered. “You think you can run, you think you can hide, but _nobody_ can escape **_me!_** ” Mark put on his Warfstache lisp again as he stalked towards Jack’s hiding spot. “Thought you could impersonate _me,_ eh? Thought you could just flaunt around my trademark ‘stache and get away with it? Prepare yourself, Mr. Jacksepticeye! It’s time for your interview.”

The bad thing about taunting the beast that was Markiplier was that Mark was currently still traumatized. Jack’s retaliation options were severely limited. He couldn’t grab or even tickle. All he could really do was run.

Maybe he should have thought about that _before_ packing the pinata full of goats.

“Noooo, not an interview, no, I’m not ready! I’m not ready for my close-up!” Jack tried to edge around the tree to keep it between himself and Mark.

“Ready or not, here I come!” Mark put on speed the last foot or so and grabbed at the tree trunk with his free hand. Its leverage allowed himself to swing around and chuck the last ball at Jack. “Heeeeeeere’s _Warfstache!!_ ”

Jack yelped and hit the ground belly-first. The ball sailed harmlessly over his head. Unfortunately for Tom, the spinning around the tree from both younger men had put him right in the path of Mark’s throw.

The bright green ball struck Tom in the shoulder and bounced off with its Super Springy! Core propelling it back through the air toward Mark. A golden blur rushed past Tom and leapt, snatching the rubber ball out of the air. Jack _oofed_ as one of Chica’s feet landed on his belly, winding him, but he was still laughing as he caught the golden retriever in a hug. “Chica! You saved us all!”

“Super Dog saves the day!!” Mark cheered alongside Jack. He bent down to scrub at Chica’s head and coo at her affectionately. “Good dog, best friend.”

Tom rubbed at his slightly smarting shoulder. He shuffled over to sit at the little table they were utilizing for various purposes throughout the party and munched on the candy he’d snagged.

Somehow, Tom had never heard of Bean Boozled. Somehow, he also managed to _still_ not understand it by the time he grew tired of jelly beans. Every single bean Jack and Mark tried to feed Tom turned out to be a good one.

Every bean Mark ate turned out bad.

Jack was getting a decent mix of good and bad, but after a string of good beans, he decided to try the brilliant idea of shoving a handful into his mouth all at once.

Not a brilliant idea. _Not a brilliant idea_! Thankfully, the cameras weren’t rolling to catch Jack spitting a multi-colored mouthful of jelly bean sludge into one of Mark’s bushes.

_“My bushes!!”_

“ _My tongue!_ ”

“My sanity.”

“Borf!”

They turned the camera on again for Mark’s presents, a huge mound of beautifully wrapped gifts of various sizes and shapes.

They were almost entirely cheap gag gifts from toy stores. Mark ended up receiving Groucho glasses with waggling eyebrows, several squirt guns, a huge bucket of sidewalk chalk, a bag of Fuego chips, and so much more. There were a couple serious gifts, like a leather jacket from YouTube with playbutton inner trim, and of course a box of Lucky Charms cereal brought by Tom.

Mark didn’t even wait for a bowl. He cracked open that box and stuffed a handful of the sugary cereal directly into his mouth- on camera. Tom was disgusted. Jack just laughed while Chica licked up the fallen pieces from the grass.

Jack crumpled up the wrapping paper into a giant ball and threw it at Chica, laughing whenever she brought it back. When it grew too soggy to keep together, Jack caught up her paws instead, pulling her onto her hind legs and leading her in a dance around the garden. The long-suffering dog went along with it, used to such crazy behavior from her dad. Jack stopped when he realized Mark had picked up the camera to film him, scrunching up his nose and sticking out his tongue at his fellow YouTuber.

A bit later, Mark excused himself from the shoot to use the bathroom. Tom went over to Jack once Mark was out of earshot. “Hey. Y’know what we should do? Get some footage of Mark’s workout space in the shed. His fans would lose their _minds._ ”

“As if they aren’t gonna lose their shit from everything else in this video,” Jack laughed. “Seriously, they’d’ve eaten this up even if his channel _wasn’t_ in a drought. But yeah, let’s do it! Never hurts to have extra options when editing. You wanna film, or should I?”

“I’ll film it. You should act like the adventurous narrator. The dude in a nature documentary with some foreign accent educating the audience on all the _wonders_ of wild beasts in their natural habitats. I’ll be your one man camera crew.” Tom grabbed the camcorder and set it to start recording again.

Jack snorted at the thought, shaking his head at Tom. “God, they’re gonna _love_ this shit...wait, wait, I know, I know!” He cleared his throat, then started in a passably decent Australian accent. “G’day mates! Today, we’re trying to find ourselves a wild Markiplur. These tiny creatures are notoriously loud and obnoxious, but they certainly do hide their nests well! But with the help of this lovely sniffer dog,” he reached out to snag Chica, patting her head, “we think we’ve found a den. Let’s go see if we can find ourselves a Markiplur!” He crept toward the shed.

Tom supplied Jack with a supportive thumbs-up. Chica trailed after the sneaking men with the same old curiosity she’d hosted since she was a little puppy. Whenever the humans were doing weird, silly things it always drew her attention. However, when the trio got close to the shed door, the giant rhubarb plant still growing beside it gave a visible rustle. It was more than loud enough to be picked up by the camera and Tom came to a startled halt. “Did you see that??”

“Shhh…” Jack touched his finger to his lips, still playing the role of the Australian host. “Wild Markiplurs can be _veeeery_ territorial, especially if they’re nesting. You can tell that this one is from all the little sprouts popping up. That’s how Markiplurs are made,” he informed the camera.

The rustling plant was more than a little curious, though. Jack didn’t think they had much wildlife in their back garden that could make that monster of a plant shiver like that. There was only one creature large enough who was missing…

“Oh my fucking God….For the record, I don’t endorse _any_ of this.” Tom whispered just loud enough for the audience to hear. Chica, though her attention was drawn to the rustling, did not begin to bark or growl. After several seconds of nothing, Tom reached out to visibly nudge at Jack’s shoulder with a hand. “So? What are you waiting for, Crocodile SepticEye? Go check it out!” he hissed.

Oh, this was a setup. Such a setup. Tom was not good at being subtle. _Prepare for a jumpscare…_ “when approaching a wild Markiplur, tread carefully and slowly. Do not make any sudden movements!”

It could almost be advice for Mark's fans for how to act around Mark now. Jack steeled his nerves and crept toward the shed and the rustling plant. Tom crept along, but kept a certain distance to get the best shot for what happened next.

Mark, in all his newly muscled glory, had traded out the birthday gear for something equally silly but slightly more disturbing. A crudely made cardboard mask meant to emulate the face of a vicious badger- jagged teeth and all. He had little cardboard cones on his fingers for claws. It made the Foxy mask he’d whipped up for the FNAF Musical look professional. Really, it was the cacophony of screeches and snarls he made when he leaped out of the bush that made the scare. When it came to being abjectly creepy or terrifying, Mark had nailed it down to a science. He raised up his arms to make himself look as big as possible and chittered at Jack.

Tom, gave a comical shout. He made a show of jumping back with the camera so the image would shake. It was only now Chica dropped down and started barking up a storm at the commotion. However, her wagging tail told all.

Even expecting it, Jack still screeched like a small child and jumped back, falling on his ass in a graceless tumble of limbs and cape. “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” _Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't ruin the moment, keep looking terrified for the shot…_

Jack's initial reaction had not been faked, but his brain caught up moments later and was giggling over the costume and the hilarious image Mark presented. He stayed cowering on the ground, flinging his arms up dramatically to shield himself from the monster. “A wild Markiplur! Noooooo! It's gonna eat me! _Or worse!”_

“Noooo! Our brave and brilliant narrator with a questionable accent! How can we continue the series without you?!” Tom cried dramatically. He even went so far as to have the camera catch his outstretched hand in the corner while Chica barked and bounded about the two “star actors”.

“Hello Mr. Narrator, my name is _Markiplur,_ and today I’m gonna get revenge for all your past goat transgressions!! Time to pay the badger!” Mark swooped in on the fallen Jack, but he didn’t eat him. Instead, he crouched beside the Irishman and proceeded to tickle him with his cone claws.

Jack _howled_ at being tickled, thrashing beneath Mark with all the helplessness of the youngest child conditioned to the harsh acceptance of whatever his older siblings choose to dole out. “ _Ahhh!_ No, no, ahhh, not the neck, not the belly, no, no!” His breathy protests were gasped out between huge bouts of laughter as he kicked at the ground and hoped this wouldn't trigger Mark.

Chica bowled into them both and began smothering Jack’s face with a flurry of licks. Her tail was wagging up a storm behind her as Mark tried to heave her off the poor Irishman. “Huhuhuh, Chica no, Chica, oh my God Chica no you’re gonna kill him, get over here! Tom! Quit laughing at our plight and come help us!”

“But I’m just the cameraman. I’m not supposed to interact with the show itself.”

“Raaawr!” Jack couldn't grab Mark, but he _could_ grab Chica, wrapping his arms around her furry sides and rolling over to pull her off her feet. “Rawr, puppers, you're not supposed to _help_ the Markiplur!” Jack was still laughing, his face soaked, mustache smeared half across his cheek, as he struggled into his knees. “God fuck, Mark, you're _terrifying_ like that! What are you even supposed to be, a swan?”

Chica continued nipping playfully at both mens as they got to their feet, but she didn’t try knocking them down again. Mark awkwardly slipped the mask up into his hair to reveal his flustered face and crooked glasses. Utilizing the cone claws for anything other than tickling and intimidation proved rather futile. “I’m supposed to be a _badger,_ you doof! Y’know, with the stripes and the claws and the _nasty, pointy little teeth._ ” He brought the claws up to his mouth and wiggled them to further cement the classic reference.

“And here, everyone, you can see the wild _Markiplur_ and the domesticated _SepticAyyye_ interacting with one another on relatively peaceful terms. Chica, our resident field dog, is keeping a close eye on both of them for any signs of possible aggression.” Tom drawled from his position as he zoomed in on the two young men.

“Ahhh, _now_ I see it! A badger wearing a mask!” Jack flung an arm over Chica's back, giggling and grinning up at his friend. Mark looked so _good_ , happy and healthy, with no collar around his neck and almost no shadow in his eyes. Jack wished Mark could look like this always.

“What?! Are you saying I look like a badger, Jack? How can you stand to cuddle with me if that’s the case?” Mark scoffed.

Tom stopped the recording and closed the camera’s viewing screen. “Well that’s gonna be cut out of the finished product.”

Jack cracked up again, slumping over against Chica's side. “Fuck, Mark, we can't put that online! We're having a hard enough time convincing people we have separate rooms!”

He glanced up at Tom, a sheepish bent edging into his smile. “We _do_ have separate rooms when we don't have guests. We just don't _use_ them...but the internet doesn't understand nuances.”

Mark flushed. “Oops. I actually forgot we were on camera….” He sent his perturbed brother a sheepish smile as he plucked off the cone claws.

Tom just sighed. “Well, I’m exhausted. Are we about done yet?”

Jack glanced at Mark, then turned a wicked grin up to the older Fischbach. “One more thing…”

Next time the camera switched on, Tom was alone again. It was a fantastic callback to the opening scene of their little vlog. Just Tom, huddled in the dimness and staring into the camera. There was no mirror to utilize this time, as he was hiding under the table they’d been using, but that just made the “found footage” vibe all the better. The only illumination for the shot was the bluish light from the camera’s viewing screen. It cast an almost ethereal glow over Tom’s terror-stricken face. The pink mustache Jack had drawn on it was (purposefully) smeared over onto his cheek and his long hair was wild. He looked like he’d been through a war zone.

“Okay. _Okay._ I finally managed to get away from those _savages._ I’m hiding under the table right now, waiting for a chance to make a run for it. I don’t think they know I’m gone yet. They’ve just been running around, pouncing on each other and making these _terrible_ jokes. The things they’re wearing get worse and worse. They even tried making me one of _them._ ” He gestured to the smeared lipstick as he forced his breaths to come harsh and rapid into the microphone. “They’ve got a dog. That’s how they keep finding me. But I think I’m safe. I think I really gave them the slip, so look. If I don’t make it, and you find this, _get out. Run._ Don’t stick around like I did-”

 _“Thooooomaaaaaas!”_ Mark’s voice, deep and rugged, chimed in from a slight distance.

“Shit-” Tom huddled closer to the camera and looked around in a paranoid manner. He seemed to be holding his breath, just like a horror movie protagonist might when the serial killer was searching for them.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Jack thickened his Irish accent again, though he was a touch more intelligible than he had been in the original Tom intro. “Oh _Tommy-boy_! We want to _play_ with you…” He stomped around the table, trying to sound heavier than he was.

“ _Thoooomaaaas,_ come out and _plaaaa~aaaay!_ ” Mark sang. He hopped his way around the table. The items still resting on its surface shook and trembled with every landing. It created a terrible clatter in the enclosed space beneath.

“Oh _God,_ fuck, fuckfuckfuck just go away, go away….” Tom whispered; shooting the camera a desperate, pleading look. There was a snuffling at the outside of the tablecloth. His mouth snapped shut and he held his breath; watching.

A little, golden snout rucked up the cloth to poke inside. It sniffed for a moment and Tom silently mouthed _“no, don’t, stop”_ while shaking his head. The effort was all in vain.

_“Borf!”_

Shadows came to both sides of the table as Jack and Mark closed in. “Oh _Tommy-boy_!” Jack sang. “We _found_ you!” He curled his fingers around the edge of the table while Mark did the same on the other side. In a swift, synchronized motion, they lifted the folding table up and away from Tom.

“We’ll make a YouTuber out of you yet, Thomas Fischbach!!” Mark jeered as Tom’s trembling form was revealed. He put on the creepiest face he could manage as his brother shakily swiped the camera from one aggressor to the other. Chica, having no idea what was going on, panted and wagged her tail happily.

The audience’s view flipped and shook and then focused on the grass for a moment as Tom leaped to his feet. His rapid strides could just be seen as his screams faded out with the scene.

When the recording started up again (it would be bonus footage, for those that stuck around to the very end of the video), Mark was carrying the camera. But it was still shaky and jumping around because its user was still running. Actually, _all of them_ were running. They weren’t in the garden anymore, but near some kind of bank. It was impossible to tell if it was a lake, or river, or even just a pond. But Tom was making a mad dash for it far up ahead while Jack, Mark, and Chica chased him down.

**_“You’ll never take me alive!!!”_ **

_“Tom no, wait, we’re done!! It’s over! We’re sorry!!!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	33. Night 164: A Hard Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This really was inevitable, in the end.

The Markiplier Birthday Vlog had been a _rousing_ success, becoming one of Mark’s most popular videos overnight. Tom had gotten to hear the editing process as Mark and Jack fought over the mouse and howled in laughter at the footage Tom had caught without them realizing. The views, likes, and comments started pouring in the moment it was uploaded, and Jack had spent most of the evening reading them aloud to Mark and replying to as many as he could.

The next day had been much easier, with lazy mornings for the Fischbach brothers. Jack had dragged himself out of bed early in order to cook a full Irish breakfast for Tom (and extra for Mark and himself). He even went out and cut a flower from Mark’s precious garden, sticking it in a glass of water and putting it on the tray he brought to Tom for the promised breakfast repayment. Tom had been thoroughly unamused by the flower, but he had enjoyed the breakfast.

Jack recorded another couple of videos that day, getting back into his usual swing and letting Tom and Mark spend time together. It was actually a little easier to work without worrying about what Mark was doing on his own.

To Jack’s surprise, he was actually sleeping _better_ with Tom in the house and distracting Mark. Jack’s own stress levels had dropped, and his body was taking every chance it had to recharge from the exhausting months of caring for Mark. Not that Jack was complaining about it! He just hadn’t realized how _draining_ it had been.

Jack wasn’t entirely sure how good nights of sleep had ended up like _this,_ but he wasn’t about to complain. Mark was curled against his chest, their legs tangled together, but instead of just nuzzling into his neck, Mark was actually kissing his skin, slow, deliberate brushes of his lips up the side of his throat and over his jaw. Jack closed his eyes, tightening his arms around Mark’s back, not daring to say anything and break the spell. Tom could come in at any moment. Until then, he was just going to enjoy this…

Jack woke up with a yelp as the bed dropped out from beneath him and he was falling, _falling_ , crashing to the floor in a tangle of duvet with a pillow dropping on his face. He sputtered, batting it away and flailing around, trying to untangle himself to figure out what the _hell_ had just happened.

**_“Don’t come any closer!!!”_ **

“What the fuck!?” Jack had been curled up with Mark and then...and then no, no, he’d been _sleeping_ , and he fell out of bed and the damn duvet was too twisted up. Jack grabbed for the edge of the mattress as the duvet was yanked away from him, rolling over on the floor with a pained grunt as he landed face-first on his nose and more, ah, _sensitive_ areas further down.

More _awake_ areas…

Jack froze on the floor, not even breathing as he was suddenly wide awake. He was hard. He was hard and had been curled up with Mark and _fuck fuck fuck_ he _knew_ this was going to happen, he _knew_ it, it would have been inevitable if they were sleeping in the same bed, even if he _hadn’t_ had a crush on Mark and fucking shit sticks how the _fuck_ was this gonna be okay?

Mark was still cowering at his end of the bed and shouting at attackers only _he_ could see when the bedroom door was abruptly thrown open. Tom stood there in all his oversized T-shirt and baggy pajama pants glory; wielding the pinata stick with all the ferocity of a Korean Rambo. His hair was a mess and his face was thick with sleep but he looked perfectly ready to kick the ass of whatever was making his baby brother scream like that. The Markiplier logo on his shirt and the adorable tiger face pattern on his pants did nothing to lessen how intimidating he looked. “What the Hell’s going on?! Mark? Jack??”

Mark was so shocked by the sudden entrance he _actually_ stopped screaming. Thankfully for everyone involved, Tom quickly chucked the stick behind him when he spied no intruders or wild animals in the room. But he _still_ looked fully prepared to whoop the butt of whatever caused Mark such extreme duress. And Jack was just about the only other person there.

Jack sat up, peering over the bed at Tom, his own green hair in wild disarray to make a perfect triumvirate of bedhead. “I think it’s a nightmare,” he mumbled, pressing the heel of his palm against the shamefully visible lump in his pyjama pants before Tom could come around the bed and see it. “I’ll...I’ll get Chica. You try to calm him down? He’s already shoved me out of bed…”

Jack had to get out of the room. He _had_ to, because he’d been the one to _trigger_ this nightmare, the worst Mark had had since...since...well, since he’d moved in with Jack, at least. Certainly the _first_ since they started sleeping in the same bed. “Maybe you’ll have better luck…”

Mark was still having a panic attack. He was curled up in the corner of the bed farthest from both of them and practically hiding under the duvet while he shook with confused anxiety.

“What?? A… are you sure? I mean, you know him…” Tom trailed off. “Fine. Go get Chica. If it was just a nightmare, I can take care of it.”

While Tom was distracted by Mark, Jack pushed himself to his feet. He shot Mark one last guilt-ridden glance before darting for the door. Thankfully he wasn’t rock hard or anything like that, just sporting a bit of a half chub, but it was still more than he needed to expose to Mark just now.

Chica was in the living room, sitting up in her crate with her ears perked. She borfed when she saw Jack, pawing at the door. “Yeah, yeah baby, your daddy needs you…” Jack opened the crate, guiding Chica to the bedroom. He peered through the door to make sure she made a beeline straight for Mark, and then he retreated back to the safety of the living room.

Jack sank down on the couch, grabbing a pillow and dragging it over his lap. He curled forward, pressing his face into the cushion, and groaned. How he could have _done_ that? How could he have been so _stupid_?

It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t _really_ his fault. He’d been asleep, and morning wood was entirely beyond his control. He hadn’t done it intentionally, would have _never_ done it intentionally...but he still could remember his dream of Mark kissing his way up his neck and how _good_ it felt, and a new wave of guilt swept through him.

It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his fault. But it _was_ , because he’d let Mark sleep with him, let this continue, hadn’t stopped it. He was not the traumatized one. He should have known better. He should have. Jack groaned again, shoving his fingers into his hair. He was a _horrible_ friend.

“Jack?” Tom’s voice was quiet as he came into the living room and his eyes fell on the other man. He frowned. “Jack.”

Jack jumped, cursing himself in the darkness of his own mind. He looked up guiltily, noting that Tom was alone. Mark was with Chica, then. Was he asleep? Did he need some tea? How long had Jack even been wallowing in his own guilt? Long enough to not need the pillow pressed over his lap anymore. That was good. If Tom found out…

Well, if Tom found out, Jack was fairly sure he’d end up gutted and Mark would be on Tom’s flight back to the States. Tom was incredibly protective of his little brother, which was only fair, after everything. Jack had been doing a good enough job keeping him sane before, but this, this was a step too far. More than a step. A hundred meter dash too far.

“He okay?” Jack asked, hoping Tom would blame the rasp in his voice on the hour and not because Jack had been huddled up trying not to cry for who knew how long. “Or…” Or did he need something? Jack? (Why would Mark need Jack, after this morning…?)

Tom stared Jack’s huddled form down for a moment before sighing. “Yeah. He’ll be okay. He’s sleeping now, with Chica. I don’t know how long it’s gonna last but I’m hoping a few hours at least. Just until morning….” His frown became more prominent as he made his way across the room to the couch. He didn’t bother with asking if he could join Jack before sitting down with a few feet of space between them; hands resting easily on his lap. Tom turned his upper body towards Jack. His face showed nothing but concern and compassion.

“How about we skip past the bs and save us both a headache? Tell me what happened back there. Why you couldn’t comfort Mark. Not that I object to having the opportunity, but you’ve done this a million times compared to me. What made this round any different? Why didn’t you come back?” Tom paused before making one last addition in a softer tone. “...Mark seemed like he was looking for you….”

Jack flinched, picking up the lap-pillow and cuddling it against his chest. Of course Mark had been looking for him. Jack _always_  brought Mark back from the edge, and he hadn't been there. He'd left Mark alone. “He'll have to get used to not having me there,” Jack mumbled into the pillow.

That wasn't the truth. That wasn't the truth, and they _both_ knew it. Tom asked for no bs, and Jack responded with a blatant lie. If Tom hasn't suspected something was up already, that was sure to tip him off. Jack pulled his legs up, curling around the pillow and trying not to look as miserable as he felt.

A furrow entered Tom’s brow. “True. But I don’t think that’s the reason you ran out of the bedroom like your ass was on fire.”

Tom sighed again. “Jack. Please. Whatever it is you’re bottling up right now, it’s not gonna produce anything good. We should air it out now while we have the opportunity. Before Mark wakes up and confronts you about what happened. Why you were gone. You know he’s going to be worried. _I’m_ worried. I don’t know you super well but this seems really out of character for you. I know I’m hardly _your_ big brother, but I’m willing to offer an ear and maybe a shoulder here. It’s like you said… Mark needs us to be strong.”

“It's stupid…” Jack pressed his face into the pillow and groaned. “It's stupid, you're right, it's fucking _stupid_ for us to be sharing a bed, even if it does help him, because when it doesn't help him, it _royally_ backfires.” He wrapped his arms around his knees, hugging legs and pillow against his chest. “He hasn't...that's the worst nightmare I've seen him have. Period.”

When Tom left, Mark really should return to the other room. Chica could join him in there so he wasn't alone. Mark would be fine. Jack would be lonely, but Mark would be fine. It really was for his own good.

And until Tom left, Jack could just sleep on the couch or something. Somewhere he could keep his dick to himself.

“Jack.” Tom reached out to place a gentle hand on Jack’s back. He made no further moves towards the other, but his body language remained open. “Much as I appreciate you finally agreeing with me, there didn’t really seem to be any immediate problems with the setup. At least not the past few nights I’ve been here. I want you two to separate, trust me. But obviously something out of the ordinary happened tonight. You triggered him. It was an accident. It’s Mark, I’m sure he’ll understand and forgive you. Just like he did with me. But in the meantime, this is obviously eating you up on the inside. It’s like you told me: we can’t hold all that negativity in. Not when it could leak out in front of Mark. He’s got enough of his own crap to deal with. Now do you want to talk it out with me, or be awkward around him in the morning?”

Jack squeezed his eyes shut. Tom had a point: bottling _this_ up would only make things awkward with Mark, and making things awkward was one of the worst things he could do for Mark. But talking to Tom about it? About how he'd been…

“I didn't mean to,” Jack mumbled into his pillow, sure his face was burning. Better Tom than his therapist, right? He didn't relish the thought of talking about a boner to the nice lady who helped him through all the other minefields. It was easier here, in the dim room, hiding behind a pillow.

“I didn't mean to, I was asleep, I just...I guess...I'm shocked it hasn't happened earlier, but I guess I was always just too drained and with you around, things are easier, but it's still…”

Tentatively, Tom began to rub at Jack’s back. “Jack. If I promise not to blow up at you, will you tell me what the problem is? I can only guess you’re holding back because you’re worried about my reaction. I don’t really want to think about what could be so bad, but I’m willing to for Mark’s sake. And yours. I swear I won’t go off on you.”

Jack shifted awkwardly on the couch. “It's not _bad_ , I mean, it is, but it's not, but it is for Mark, but not...it's just…”

Jack sighed, freeing one hand to reach above the pillow and scrub at his face. Fuck. Tom wasn't going to let him get away with _not_ saying it. _Fuck_. “I just…” Yeah, if the lights were actually on, Tom would see how red Jack's face was. Jack could feel the heat in his cheeks. “Morning wood,” he mumbled, trusting Tom, as a fellow red-blooded male, to understand.

Tom blinked. “Ah.” His voice shifted to one of more understanding. “Ah….” He stopped rubbing Jack’s back, but he left his hand there. “I see….” Tom looked away.

“Yeah…” Jack was still red, still hiding in the pillow. God fuck it. At least it was a little easier now that the words were out there.

“You know. I don’t think Mark knew it was you. Or… even comprehends what exactly happened, I think. He was scared and confused when I was with him. But he didn’t really say anything. And he wasn’t screaming at you to get out or using your name, so far as I heard. He could just think it was a nightmare.”

Tom sighed. “But… that doesn’t really change the fact it happened. Or that it could happen again. We both know it’s beyond your control but this is a reason I said sleeping together was probably a bad idea. I’m glad you’re agreeing with me now.” He adjusted the position of his hand so he could squeeze at Jack’s shoulder. “Mark needs to be able to sleep on his own. He has Chica now if the nights get rough. And since you two aren’t in a relationship or anything, it should be fine. Right?” There was a subtle brotherly warning in that last question.

Jack did poke his face out as Tom continued, frowning slightly. “Just for the record, this is one of the reasons why _I_ argued against sleeping together. I mean, I didn't say those words exactly, but I did tell Mark that I was a clingy sleeper. And we used to have a pillow wall, but then...he didn't want it?” Jack still wasn't entirely sure why Mark didn't just rebuild the wall in his room when they switched beds. Still. He _had_ tried to think things through. He wasn't the perverted brother-molester Tom seemed to be checking for.

Even if his sleeping brain _did_ molest Mark (consensually!).

“It's just...he's very hard to convince otherwise once he's got his mind set on something. And I'm trying to let him have control of his environment.” _And I really like waking up in his arms, or cuddling a pillow that still smells like him…_

“Hmmm….” Tom’s gaze had returned to Jack, stern and severe, thinking hard. His expression slowly turned pensive. “I might have to have another chat with him about this…. Though I’d prefer if you were there, so things don’t get out of hand again."

 _Because talking about this to multiple people won’t make it more awkward._ Jack didn’t even want to imagine how a potential conversation with Mark about morning wood and not sleeping together would go even _without_ Tom as an audience... and he suspected Mark wouldn’t want Tom as an audience either, because how do you explain that curling up with your bro in a totally platonic no-homo way (at least on one part) in the morning was _good_ and _relaxing_ and _helpful_ if you didn’t actually _do_ it? Because Jack understood that. He understood how it calmed Mark to be held, and how those morning moments were the only times when Mark _could_ be held the way he craved. He understood it because he felt the same way, and those lazy mornings were the only times when _Mark_ could hold _him_ , and they could both pretend, if only for an hour, that the world wasn’t nearly as cruel as they knew it was. Jack wouldn’t take that from Mark. He _couldn’t_ take that from Mark. Not if Mark wanted it to continue.

“If he even lets me bring it up after the last time….” Tom sighed. “If push comes to shove, _you_ might need to talk to him while _I_ sit in for support. I don’t think Mark is taking this whole thing seriously enough. I don’t think he’s really taking into consideration his feelings, or…” He paused and looked Jack over like a parent that was meeting their child’s date for the first time. When he spoke, there wasn’t a hint of humor in his tone to signal a possible joke. “...Jack. How exactly do you feel about Mark? Note I’m asking for _your_ benefit here, because I think I already know the answer. Maybe skip the unnecessary lie this time around?”

Of course, it was as he was musing on how wonderful Mark felt in his arms (which had been the subject of his horrible dream earlier), that Tom’s stern question cut through his thoughts and strummed the thick cord of guilt stretched tight through Jack’s heart. He didn’t answer. Not with words, at least. He looked up sharply, blue eyes wide and terrified because Tom knew? Tom _knew_? Tom had...figured it out? Somehow?

He was gonna die. He was gonna be killed and buried under the rhubarb plant, or chopped up tiny and fed to the potatoes. Jack unconsciously shrunk away from Tom, still staring like a deer caught in headlights.

Tom’s expression dropped straight into exasperation and disbelief. “Oh my fucking _God,_ Jack, make it a little less obvious would you? I feel like I’m in a romcom now. This is ridiculous. _Both of you_ are ridiculous.” He let Jack pull away; content to press a hand to his forehead in grief. “Okay, first off, I’m _not_ going to kill you. Stop looking at me like that. If I was going to rip you a new one for crushing on my dumbass of a little brother, I wouldn’t _give you a heads up._ That’s just tactics. Secondly, Mark would probably try to kick _my_ ass if I kicked yours, and I couldn’t even fight back. Lose-lose situation for me, that’s _more_ tactics. Thirdly, I’d probably get kicked out of your house, and I’m here for Mark. Even more of a pointless loss for me, yadda yadda, do I even need to repeat myself a third time?” He casually ticked the reasons off on his fingers.

“If you’re wondering when I figured it out, then you’re hopeless. Did you even _watch_ all the footage from Mark’s birthday? How the two of you _looked_ at each other? Just looked. Not even spoke or interacted. You guys have always treated this ‘Septiplier’ thing-” Tom purposefully used air quotes. “-as a joke but there’s probably a good reason it’s so huge. Even when you’re not playing it up for laughs, it’s still there. It’s still obvious. You two just happen to have such thick skulls, or skewed vision, or… I don’t know, you’re up to your dyed hair in _denial_ that you fail to notice it. If _I’d_ hung around you both before now I would have noticed it. Especially _you._ ” Tom pointed a finger at Jack.

“You, Jacksepticeye, are one of the _most_ lovesick people I think I’ve ever witnessed. You can’t even _look_ at Mark without getting this endeared gleam in your eye. You look at him like he’s Adonis and of course he doesn’t notice, or he tells himself he’s reading it wrong, because he’s thick like that. And I mean that in the most loving way possible.” Tom sighed heavily through his nose and pinched at the bridge of it with eyes closed. “Now. I think the question here is, _what_ are we going to do about this situation? Because I think Mark is clinging to you for more than platonic comfort at this point and doesn’t know how to accept or admit it. And I can tell, from the conversation we just had, that _you’ve_ accepted it but are too afraid to say anything. Understandably so. But clearly that setup is starting to break down.”

Jack blinked at Tom, blinked and huddled in the corner of the couch, hugging his pillow like it could protect him from a protective big brother unloading on him with both barrels...of acceptance? He took a shaky breath and shook his head. “No, it’s not...I mean…”

He grimaced, winced, shut his eyes and flinched away from Tom. “I...yeah, okay. I...yeah. Have got a Mark problem. But you’re wrong, he doesn’t...he clings to me because I’m literally his _entire world_ , not because he wants _anything_ more than platonic! And I’ve been trying, I’ve been trying so fucking hard to second-guess _everything_ I do with him, to make sure I’m not taking advantage of him being so vulnerable, because yeah, yes, I’ve been crushing on him as long as I’ve known he existed, but he’s also genuinely my best friend and I don’t want to _ever_ ruin that… Septiplier’s not a thing, Tom. It never has been. It never will be. Mark just...he jokes about all his pairings.” Or used to, at least. Before.

Jack burrowed back into his pillow, but it wasn’t out of shame or embarrassment this time. Not fully. It was more of defeat, accompanied by a heavy sigh. “Mark’s straight. He’s been straight. Getting...attacked doesn’t turn you gay.”

“Jack. Please remember Mark is the traumatized one and I am totally at liberty to reach across this couch and smack you upside the head. With my big brother hand. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you _are_ his entire world. That doesn’t necessarily mean his feelings are purely platonic. I’m really happy to hear you’ve been careful. That you’re _not_ taking advantage when you could. When others _would._ It’s a big reason I’m even _having_ this discussion with you, Sean. I know Mark’s always liked to joke around with his relationships and feelings. He thinks it’s a big comedy routine and loves pandering to his fans just to rile them up. He’s always been like that. He’s an idiot.” Tom’s tone was affectionate, though. “And maybe the Septiplier thing was a joke too. But haven’t you seen it, Sean? How he looks at you sometimes when the camera isn’t rolling?”

Tom swiveled in his seat so he could lean against the back of the couch with a sigh. “You’re right. Getting attacked doesn’t change your sexuality. And Mark’s always believed he was straight; only ever dated girls. But he was always open to the idea of homosexuality, too. Wouldn’t have been able to joke about it so much otherwise. My brother’s been full of too much love and affection since the day he was born, Sean.” He glanced over to Jack. “It’s always flooding out, all over anyone he cares about. Family, friends, fans. They tried to use that. Tried to turn that open affection against him and break him with it.” Tom sat up again so he could hunch forward; elbows resting on his legs with hands clasped.

“...but they failed. It’s still there. He’s just more careful with it. Nervous. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” Tom shifted his gaze to Jack again. “I’ve seen how he acts when you’re around. How he treats you. It’s different from before, Sean. From what I’d see in his videos. In panels. Maybe some of that is from his attachment. But I don’t think it’s the only cause. And I don’t think his trauma ‘turned him gay’. But I think spending all this time with you… really getting to know you, personally… has changed his feelings for you. Maybe it’s let him have a few realizations of his own. Maybe the idea of Septiplier wasn’t as contrived or one-sided as you always thought. But something’s changed. And you’re never gonna know what unless you confront it.”

To Jack’s credit, he _was_ listening to Tom, watching him with his cheek on the pillow he was hugging, not interrupting or immediately spouting denials. He _wanted_ to believe Mark returned his feelings. He wanted his dream this morning to not be just a dream. He’d wanted it for _years_ , tamped down on his desires, let himself fall in love with other people...but he always came back to Mark. _Always_. And after this whole debacle, Jack didn’t think he’d ever be able to pull _away_ from Mark. Maybe it would be easier when Mark went back to L.A...or maybe Jack would just finally cave to demands and move to the States himself, just so he could stay near.

Jack _wanted_ to believe Mark loved him, and hearing sort of those words coming from the mouth of Mark’s _brother_ carried so much more weight than it did from the legions of Septiplier shippers who wrote entire essays on why he and Mark were destined to be together...but Tom wasn’t Mark. Tom didn’t know the truth behind Mark’s broken smile; he could only guess.

“...you want me to confront it?” Jack asked dryly. “You _want_ me to approach your severely traumatized baby brother with the idea of a relationship? The one who literally threw me out of bed _screaming_ because I was...having a good dream? That’s your idea of a good idea?”

Tom sent Jack a sharp look. “Don’t misinterpret the words I’m saying, Sean. I thought you knew better than to just mix up every kind of love there is under one umbrella like you can’t have one without the other. I’m not saying to approach him about starting a relationship. I’m _definitely_ not suggesting to broach the topic with your sexual attraction.”

Tom pulled a small face. Jack hoped it was because they were talking about his brother’s potential sex life and not because Tom was in any way homophobic. If Tom didn’t approve, Jack didn’t have a _chance_. “But I know for a fact communication and understanding are two of the most important aspects to _any_ kind of relationship. Platonic, romantic or otherwise. You say you’ve been harboring these feelings for years. I’m sure being close with Mark like this has only made dealing with them worse. It’s probably a reason you’re so strung out to begin with. It’s _not healthy._ Suppressing things never is. I’m sure your therapists have mentioned that.

“And I think Mark is hiding feelings too. I know his tells. I know how he acts around a crush. It can be difficult to pick apart from his jokes, but I’ve known him since before he could even know _himself._ If… that makes sense. Moving on.” Tom shook his head. “The point is: You’re both in denial about something. You’re _both_ trying to pretend some other level of your relationship doesn’t exist. And eventually it’s gonna come to a really nasty head. I’m not saying to start making out-” _God forbid._ “-or to scream your love for him from the rooftops. I’m just saying… _talk_ to him. You two have heartfelt discussions about everything else, I’m sure. If you air all this out… you can settle it. Either he returns your feelings, or he doesn’t. Your friendship is too strong now for a confession or rejection to throw it off, so what do you have to lose? I’m one hundred percent _sure_ it would put you both at more of an ease.” Tom winced. “I’m not doing this to try and setup Mark with a significant other, okay? I literally just want him to be happy and comfortable. And you give him both of those things. But not like this.”

Jack hunched himself deeper into the abused pillow crushed against his chest, shaking his head a little as he looked away from Tom. “If there’s _anything_ deeper about how Mark feels about me, it’s entirely because of this whole fucking mess. And I don’t want...I don’t want _that_ to be the basis of anything. He’s gonna continue to improve. He’s gonna go back to L.A., and he’ll get over...whatever this has become. And I will too. It’s always easier when he’s on the other side of the world. I just...need to do better about keeping myself under control until that day. I can’t risk triggering him again like that. I _can’t_.”

He’d talk to Mark, but not about being in love with him. About separate beds, or at least about Chica joining them in bed, sleeping between them as a living barrier. Curling up against her wasn’t nearly as good as curling up with Mark, but it was better than being completely alone. Jack closed his eyes. It was going to be lonely enough when Mark left. Maybe he’d actually get himself the dog he’d always wanted.

“You don’t know that for sure….” Tom’s tone was sympathetic. “You don’t know if the feelings will go away when he leaves. It would be better if you two sorted this out while you’re together in person. And not just for a few days, like when you go to the U.S. for a convention. You have the time and space right now. You should take advantage of it before it’s too late. Before something you regret happens. You could have another slip. Mark could misunderstand, or misread your feelings. Would you really rather let him just mark up his own conclusions than tell him the truth? At least if he’s triggered, you’ll be prepared for it. You won’t have another _last night._ ”

Tom was staring at Jack critically again, but he sighed. He rubbed at his face with a hand. “...it’s not my place to force either of you to do anything. I can only give advice and suggestions based on my own knowledge and experience. I just want Mark to be happy. I’ll do anything to avoid him suffering any further. But… in the end, it’s up to you. It’s your relationship- platonic or otherwise.” He rose to his feet with a few cracking joints and a long yawn. “I’m going to bed. Please go check on Mark. Right now, he still needs you.”

Jack wanted Mark to be happy too. More than _anything_ , more than his own happiness. After everything Mark suffered through, if anyone in the world deserved a bit of happiness, it was him.

Unlike Tom, Jack didn’t believe _he_ could make Mark happy. As a friend, yeah, but not as anything more. _Chica_ made Mark happy. Seeing his family again. Going home to L.A. would make Mark happy again. Not...not pursuing any sort of deeper relationship with Jack.

Jack sighed and slowly uncurled, trying to punch the pillow back into shape and setting it against the cushions. He had been planning on just trying to get some sleep out here on the couch for the rest of the morning, but if Tom thought Mark needed him, then the least Jack could do was check on him. And Jack did _want_ to check on him. If Mark was asleep, surely there would be no harm in just glancing in on him, making sure he was okay...right?

“Good night, Tom. Sorry we dragged you out of bed. And...thanks. For talking.” Jack shifted awkwardly, letting Tom head to the guest room before he went to the door of his room to look in on Mark and Chica.

“Good night, Jack. Don’t worry about it. Almost gave me a little nostalgia.” Tom had paused in the doorway of his bedroom and waited until Jack was walking past to speak up again. “You’re welcome. I’ll be here the rest of the week.” He left the offer hanging in the air before closing the door and returning to bed.

In Jack’s room, Mark was thankfully still fast asleep. The remnants of his panic attack were visible on his face in the weak light of very, _very_ early morning. He was laying on his back with one arm thrown tightly around an equally snoozing Chica. The retriever had settled her bulk directly over top of Mark’s torso like some secondary duvet. The _actual_ covers were pooled messily around Mark’s legs and waist. His breathing was slow and even with sleep; face lacking any of the terror or stress it had bore earlier. He looked peaceful. Content and satisfied, if not for his free arm lying outstretched and open. It twitched over the spot Jack usually occupied; abnormally empty.

Jack had meant to just peek in the doorway and check that Mark was still asleep. He had _meant_ to...but he found himself drawn into the room. He didn’t climb onto the bed, but he crouched by his side, folding his arms on the mattress and resting his chin on them as he watched Mark sleep. He hadn’t actually _seen_ Mark sleep in weeks, not since they started sleeping together. Mark was usually dozing off when Jack went to bed, and usually awake before Jack got up. Mark sleeping had been reserved for nights...like this one, actually, where Mark would wake up from a nightmare and fall asleep again to the sound of Jack’s voice.

He looked peaceful when he was asleep. Beautiful. _Heartbreaking._ If Mark weren’t traumatized, Jack would have stolen a picture of him like this, calm, but with tear stains on his face, one arm outstretched. It was such an amazing combination of sadness and serenity, and it made Jack’s heart heavy in his chest.

Those outstretched fingers were too tempting. Jack slid one arm forward, tentatively reaching out to brush his fingers against Mark’s. _I love you, and it’s apparently obvious._ Mark wasn’t an idiot, stupid as he could be. If everyone else saw it, _everyone_ else, how could Mark _not_? Unless he _had_ seen it and was pretending he hadn’t, to spare Jack’s feelings…

Tom thought Mark felt something in return? Tom had no idea what he was talking about. This Mark was different from old Mark. Maybe some of the behaviors Mark was exhibiting had been tells before, but now they were tics, nervous little coping strategies Mark used to stay calm. Like looking for Jack first thing when he entered a room. Jack kept him safe, in his broken mind. It had nothing to do with Mark’s affections toward Jack.

Mark’s fingers twitched again, then curled and turned so he could latch onto Jack’s hand. It was a gentle grab much like the grip he had around Chica. He snorted softly and mumbled something unintelligible under his breath. For a few seconds, all was silent.

Then he smacked his lips a bit and flopped his head to the side, facing away from Jack with a fresh snore. Chica mimicked the action with a sleepy huff of her own and stretched her back legs a bit. Sleep returned, but the hold on Jack’s hand stayed.

“Brat,” Jack huffed under his breath. Mark was _fast_ asleep, but he was holding on to Jack, and Jack couldn’t pull away.

It wasn’t like he had anything he needed to do in the living room. He was just going to go back to sleep. And his boner was definitely completely gone, and Mark and Chica looked so cozy and...fuck it. Jack eased himself onto the bed, tugging up a corner of the duvet and sighing as he made himself comfortable. “Good night, Mark,” he murmured, closing his eyes. _I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	34. Day 165: Willows and Wood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The willow tree is perfect for heart-to-hearts. Also badgers.

Waking up was...surprisingly unstressful, all things considered. Mark was tucked in Jack’s arms ( _not_ kissing up his neck) and Chica was stretched across their feet. Jack could hold Mark and not say anything, not _need_ to say anything. Mark was at peace. _Jack_ was at peace.

Mark pulled away first, when Chica got up and shook herself, then padded to the door and whined. As cozy as the bed was, when the pup needed to pee, everything else had to be put on hold. It was easier for Jack to drag himself out of an empty bed and nab a mug of coffee and a bowl of cereal before starting his day.

Jack’s daily videos were quick to record, and both were sent Robin’s way to edit. He stretched  and pushed away from his desk, leaving the recording room to find the Fischbachs.

Tom was in his bedroom, bent over his tablet. Probably trying to get some actual work done. Jack didn’t disturb him. He tiptoed past Tom’s door, careful _not_ to creak the floorboards, and searched for Mark.

Mark was in the garden. Of course he was. He was playing with Chica, and the dog was just eating up all of her daddy’s attention. Mark was laughing, looking healthy and happy, and that damn pink collar was still around Chica’s neck. He never had managed to take it back after his birthday party, though he did try when Jack finally pointed out its absence. Apparently, Chica’s confused puppy dog eyes were more powerful than Mark’s need to clutch at the strap of nylon around his throat.

Jack watched the two play for a minute, then took a deep breath and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Tom was right. He _did_ need to talk to Mark. It wasn’t going to be fun. That was why, when he stepped out into the garden, he was holding two mugs of hot, sweet tea. “Hey. Got time for a break?” Jack offered one of the mugs to Mark, knowing Mark would be able to tell just from the choice of beverage what sort of break Jack meant.

Mark happily accepted the beverage. “Thanks.” He blew gently at the surface and was preparing to take a sip when the question came. Mark paused with the mug halfway to his mouth so he could look over at Jack. The slight furrow that entered his brow was highly reminiscent of Tom. He lowered the mug. “Uh, yeah. We can go sit under the willow tree, if you want. The grass isn’t too damp.”

Jack smiled at Mark, nodding along with his suggestion. “Yeah, let’s do that.” Sitting under the willow together had become one of _their_ things, like threatening to get a goat or quoting _Titanic_ at inopportune moments. They’d had countless mugs of hot chocolate under the tree, and Jack suspected there would be countless more. Hot chocolate was for sitting quietly and just enjoying surroundings though, or for pushing boundaries just a little bit. Tea was for heart-to-heart talks about sensitive topics, or for calming panic.

They’d sat under this tree so many times that they actually had _spots_. Mark stretched out languidly in his own chosen spot. Jack settled into his, a little V of two roots cradling his hips, and leaned back against the trunk. He bent his legs up in front of him, watching Chica frolic around the yard. She’d really settled in here. Jack was glad. He hadn’t been sure how the flight would affect her. It seemed like she had already forgotten all about it.

Jack took a sip of his tea, glancing up at the guest room window. Tom would be able to see them, but he couldn’t hear them from the room. _I’m talking to him. Happy?_ He sighed, switching hands on his mug carefully. “So...sorry I didn’t bring this to you last night.” He could have started with small talk, asked about Chica, asked about Mark, but Mark knew something was up already just from the looks he kept giving Jack. Plunging right in would be easier than putting it off.

Mark finally sipped at the tea and gave a little hum. “It’s okay…. Tom’s got experience with that sort of thing too. Just hasn’t done it a few decades…. And having Chica there did wonders. I got through it all right.” Mark paused. “...but I was curious, about where you were. I mean, I’m sure you had a good reason, I just…. It was weird. That was the first time you weren’t….” He sighed. “You don’t have to tell me. I was just… disappointed, I guess. Which is stupid. Because you’re totally _not_ obligated to be there for me every hour of every day or night.”

“Yeah, I just...I was in the living room, wallowing in my own dark mood…” Jack picked at a flaw in the glaze on his mug, flicking his nail over the sharp spike. “I...um...I kinda triggered you last night. Unintentionally! I just…” He sighed, pulling his legs a little closer to his chest. “It’s...kinda really fucking embarrassing, Mark, but. Um. Thomas cornered me after he got you back to sleep, and he just...he can be really scary demanding. Not that I _wasn’t_ gonna tell you, because I know it’s gonna happen again if nothing changes, and that was just the worst nightmare I’d ever seen you have, and it wasn’t really a nightmare though.”

Jack picked at the glaze and took a gulp of his tea, trying to steel his nerves. “It’s just...with how we sleep, and how I...tend to cling. Um. Sometimes there are...you know. Reactions. At night. To dreams or whatever. Good dreams.”

Yeah, because this was not an awkward way of discussing morning wood with your best friend and bedmate _at all_. Jack grimaced, closing his eyes and ducking his head. “And I was clinging and you...felt it.” He coughed, clearing his throat after _that_ admission, hoping his cheeks were warm just from the steam rising up from his mug of tea and not because they were flushed with embarrassment.

“Did he intimidate you? Fuck, Jack, I’m sorry. I’ll go talk to him after this. He doesn’t really act like it most of the time but he can be stupidly protective of me when he wants to be. He shouldn’t be freaking you out over accidents.” Mark was still watching Jack with concern. “...is that why you never came back? Because you were dealing with, uh… _that?_ You were worried maybe you’d trigger me again?” Mark looked up at the sky through the willow leaves. “I didn’t… I didn’t even really know what happened, except that I was scared. And thought I was being attacked again. That _they_ were there. At first I was panicking too much to even see what was going on around me. But then Tom showed up, and Chica, and then I started wondering where you were…. I didn’t even think of the fact you might’ve been a cause….”

“He didn’t _intimidate_ me, he just...really wanted to know why the fuck I’d just left him alone to calm you down.” Jack took a sip of his tea, letting the heat sink into his belly. “If he _hadn’t_ been there, Mark, I wouldn’t have left you to deal with that alone. I would’ve...powered through, somehow. But he was there, and it was just...easier. To leave.”

Jack leaned forward against his knees, glancing up at the window again. “To be honest...I’m not entirely sure _what_ he wanted. We talked a bit about you and I...going back to separate beds. You have Chica here now, so you wouldn’t have to sleep alone. And I...Mark, it’s going to happen again. It’s not something I can control. I honestly thought it would happen a lot sooner. Maybe...maybe we should go back to separate beds, after Tom leaves.”

Mark frowned down at his mug. He pulled his knees up and got a hint of stubbornness on his face. “I can get over it,” he stated resolutely. “We can work past it, Jack, just like we do with everything else. Re-erect the pillow wall if we have to. Nights go so much _better_ when we’re together. You can’t deny that. We’ve finally been getting enough rest and I just _know_ splitting into different rooms again is gonna change that. Do you really want to go back to sleepless nights?”

“No.” Jack didn’t even pretend to deny it. It was tied to what he and Tom had talked about the previous night. “No, Mark, I… I _like_ sharing a bed with you.” He ran his thumb over the handle of his mug, resolutely _not_ looking at Mark. “And I like...I like the mornings when I wake up and you’re still there. And I don’t... _we_ don’t have to worry so much about your triggers, because the day hasn’t started and I can just hug you like you need.” _Like I need._ “And I know we’ve both been saner since we’ve started sharing a bed. But Mark, this wasn’t… this wasn’t a little panic, like the first time. This was the _worst attack I’ve seen_. And I’ve been with you since day one...and it was my fault.”

Jack closed his eyes and shivered. “I mean, I know it’s not the worst attack you’ve had. But it’s not...it’s not something you can just power through so easily. And it’s not something I can avoid. I mean...I think it’s _because_ I’ve been sleeping better that it happened at all. I’m not so exhausted, and so… things happen.” He pulled one leg even tighter against his chest, as if he could block his groin from Mark with just his thigh.

“I don’t know what to do, Mark. I don’t _want_ to go back to separate rooms--and don’t tell Tom that--but I know I _can’t_ trigger you like that again. I couldn’t...I don’t know if I’d be able to forgive myself if I did.”

“I’m getting better at dealing with attacks, though. If I wasn’t, I don’t know if Tom could’ve helped me so easily. I don’t think I could’ve even stayed in the bed like I was. I probably would have tried running out of the room, or hiding in the closet. Like I did that first day.” Mark squeezed at his mug. “I just… that was a special case. I panicked. I only got aggressive because you were clinging to me. I don’t… you know that’s how I react, if I’m breaking down and someone tries to touch me. If we put up the pillow wall again, even if you get a… it won’t be such a huge issue.”

Mark’s face was set. “I don’t care if it makes me sound like a big baby, or like I’m becoming dependent. I _don’t._ Everything went uphill once we stopped beating around the bush and just shared a room. Fewer nightmares for both of us. No more waking up in the middle of the night. No more passing out in my bed. No more me, jolting awake and so scared I almost puke, and pacing around my bedroom waiting for the one reassurance I had here. Chica’s great. Having Chica here is fucking _awesome,_ Jack, but for a long time I only had you. And I don’t know if I’m ready to give that up just yet. I don’t think you are, either. I don’t care what Tom thinks or says. He doesn’t know what we’ve been going through for months. Only we do. And we’ve always found solutions to these kinds of problems before. I know we can do it again- I _have_ to. Because I know, if you go sleep on the couch again tonight, I’m going to panic. And I know, if I move back to my room once Tom is gone, I’m going to wake up in a cold sweat thinking I’m _back there_ again. And _I_ can’t do _that,_ Jack. Not when I’ve been feeling so much better. Please.”  

“Mark, I’m not…” Jack reached over, resting his fingers lightly on Mark’s closest wrist. “I’m not going to do anything that’ll set you back. Not intentionally. I promised you _anything_ you needed to keep improving. I meant that. I still do. We can...the pillow wall seemed to work. I didn’t manage to break through it to cling to you. Mostly.” Jack remembered waking up with an arm or leg stuck through the pillow wall, but he had remained largely on his side and not on Mark’s. And Mark had never complained about a rogue limb, so...that was probably okay.

The pillow wall, though, meant that there would be no more waking up with Mark in his arms. With Mark’s arms around him. It meant lazy mornings lying in bed tangled together would be replaced with lazy mornings lying in bed tangled around pillows. The best part, the very _best_ part of sleeping with Mark would be taken away.

Maybe that was for the best. Jack was completely taking advantage of Mark by enjoying those morning cuddles far too often. Tom could claim Mark was feeling something for him all he wanted. Jack knew the truth was far simpler. Mark was grateful for what Jack had been doing thus far. He had no idea what scenarios Jack’s brain conjured up when he had his head tucked beneath Jack’s chin or his arms around his back. A pillow wall would preserve Mark’s dignity in more ways than Mark even realized.

Jack hated the idea. He looked back at his tea.

Mark stared down at the hand on his wrist long after Jack had finished speaking. Mark released one hand from his mug so he could place it over top of Jack’s. He squeezed at Jack’s fingers and finally looked up at him. “We’ll try it. And see how it goes. Maybe, after a little while, we can go back to how it’s been. Without the barrier. I _am_ getting better, Jack. And if it means both of us being more comfortable, I plan to _keep_ getting better.”

Jack stared at Mark’s hand on his in silence before looking up at his housemate. Mark looked hesitant about the idea too. Did he like the morning cuddles? Of course he did. Mark was a highly tactile man, always had been. As Jack himself had just pointed out, those early mornings were the only time they could _both_ soak up the physical affection they craved, without Mark’s triggers being hyperactive.

 _Tom says you’re in love with me._ It wasn’t normal to share a bed with your best, male friend. It wasn’t something they’d ever even considered before. _Before_ , if Jack came to visit, he always got the guest room at Mark’s place. There hadn’t been any question about that. Neither of them had voiced a desire for sharing a bed. That would have just been _weird_. But now...now Mark was speaking as if sharing a bed without a barrier of pillows was the mark of being better? Going back to his own bed, sleeping in his own room, that should have been what Mark was striving for.

Unless Tom had a point.

Jack didn’t really want to think about that. He did. He _wanted_ to be selfish. He wanted to go to sleep with Mark wrapped up in his arms and wake up with Mark pressed against his chest. He wanted to hold Mark’s hand not for comfort, but just because he could. He wanted to lean over and kiss Mark, taste the sugar and tea on his lips.

He wanted Mark to kiss him.

Jack licked his lips, forcing down the flutters in his heart that had continually grown in strength ever since Mark moved in. “You just like snuggling with me,” he said, trying to keep his voice light, teasing, trying to let Mark know it was a _joke_ , not seriously accusatory. “You’ve realized the community knew what they were talking about, that Jackaboy hugs are best hugs.”

A bit of pink trickled onto Mark’s cheeks and brightened the tips of his ears. He had a split second expression of guilt before he gave a delayed scoff. He squeezed at Jack's fingers once more before pulling his hand away and looking scornfully off to the side.

"Well I never said you weren't a good hugger. Though I'm better, of course. That just goes without saying. Maybe I just like having a portable heater next to me. For all I know, your Irish leprechaun luck could be rubbing off." It came out a little too rushed to be natural.

Well... _shit_. That hadn’t been the response Jack was expecting. Mark was covering up something, and doing a bad job of it too. He considered pulling his hand away, but Mark wasn’t _rejecting_ the touch, not really. “Mark…”

Jack squeezed Mark’s wrist gently, but he did look away from Mark, gave him that small sliver of privacy. “Please don’t forget I’ve gotten _really_ good at reading you over the past couple of months. And I’m not...it’s really hard to actually offend me, or upset me. I just...all things being equal, if you had absolutely no problems sleeping on your own, in your own room, and so did I, and the only thing sleeping in my bed had going for it was that...I was there...would you still want to?” Jack’s ears were pink now too, and he resisted the urge to look at Mark, to look toward the guest room window. He stared down at his half-drunk tea instead, knowing what answer he would give. Knowing what answer he wanted Mark to give.

Mark’s face fell and he curled a bit inwards on himself. He pulled his legs up to his chest with only their joined hands and the mug cradled between them. He didn’t let go of Jack’s hand, but he didn’t look at Jack either. It was a long time before he spoke again. “...I’d want to.”

 _I’d want to._ Three little words that shaved off so much of Jack’s unease. He closed his eyes, a little smile pulling at the sides of his mouth. Mark sounded miserable, but he’d been honest. Jack could tell just from his voice, and from how Mark had shifted up beside him, curling in on himself as if to protect himself from Jack’s repercussion.

Mark had nothing to fear. Or so Jack hoped. He squeezed Mark’s wrist again and looked over at his friend. “Good,” he said quietly. “ _Good_ , because...because I’d want to too.”

It wasn’t a declaration of _love_ , but it was one of affection, strong affection. Stronger than normal friendship. Jack wouldn’t think about sharing a bed with Robin or Wade unless there was literally only one bed left and it was a big bed. There certainly wouldn’t be any nighttime cuddling (not while awake, at least. What Jack did after he fell asleep was another question entirely).

“Tom…” Jack licked his lips nervously, glancing back at the window. “Tom said he was gonna talk to you about the whole bed thing. He was afraid, worried that you were...letting emotions confuse things. But… it’s more complicated than that. I know you _need_ company at night. I just… I dunno. I didn’t want that to be an excuse for only one of us?”

Mark glanced over at Jack, then toward the window, then back to Jack. “My emotions _are_ confusing. It’s really damn irritating but I’m trying to sort it all out. And yeah, maybe right now I _do_ need company. Someone. But even if I get better and don’t need it anymore I want… I _like_ staying with you. Don’t let my messed up emotions give you any other ideas. Don’t let _Tom_ give you any stupid ideas God damn I wish he’d talk to me before throwing stuff like this at you. I know our first private conversation went down in a fiery ball of _death_ but that doesn’t mean we should just not talk about stuff anymore.”

“Tom’s ideas _are_ stupid, and your emotions aren’t the only confusing ones around here.” Jack gave a crooked smile and a shrug. “I like staying with you too. Not just because you give me someone to cling to at night. And that’s...I didn’t want you sleeping in my bed because you needed to, and me letting you sleep in my bed because I wanted you to. Does that make sense? Cause that’s...that’s just taking advantage of you in a different way. Preying on your vulnerability, and I don’t want to do that. I don’t _ever_ want to do that.”

Mark had suffered enough for one lifetime. The last thing Jack wanted to do was give him any reason to suffer further.

“I… think so?? Kind of?” Mark didn’t sound entirely convinced. He shook his head. “That’s not the case at all, Jack. I promise. I’m the one who pushed for it, remember? Much as I needed it, I _wanted_ it too.” He still did. “If it was just a need I could’ve… we could’ve figured something else out. But I didn’t want to.” He still didn’t. “If anything, sometimes I… I felt like _I_ was taking advantage of _you._ Of how much you wanted to help me and make me feel better. Like… like I was just using you, for that. And I hated it.”

“Just...actually _living_ with you, instead of just chatting over the internet, it’s...changed things. I know you a _lot_ better than I ever did before, and you probably know me just as well now. It’s...weird. I’ve never… aside from Signe, I’ve never been this close to anyone I lived with. My roommates from before, when I was first starting out… I mean, I _liked_ them well enough, but we weren’t… _close._ ”

Mark uncurled some, holding Jack’s hand and stroking at his skin with a thumb. “I’ve gotten close with roommates in the past, but… I mean, I never shared a bed with them. Unless we all just passed out in a heap of limbs and empty beer cans or bottles. I never had serious conversations with them like this, or… or held them so close when they cried. Had them pull me back from darker thoughts. I’ve never been this close to anyone outside my own family before- not even Bob or Wade. Who I’ve known _forever._ It’s… we’ve gotten really close, Jack. And I needed that. I don’t regret it.”

“This whole nightmare’s had at least one positive side, then,” Jack said quietly. “I mean, I could’ve gone my whole life just being your friend and not being so…” He hesitated, then closed his eyes. “ _Intimate_ , for lack of a better description. But...I’m sorta glad that we’ve been able to. I don’t… you’ve seen my vlogs, whenever I come back from a convention, and it’s all _Oh my god I can’t believe these guys consider me their friend!_ It’s not so much disbelief with you anymore. In a good way.”

What little shine Mark still had in Jack’s eyes as the bigger, older, longer-running YouTuber had been completely knocked off by this whole experience. Mark was just _Mark_ , a goofball with a reserved side, carrying scars more than skin-deep, who still gave the best hugs in the world to Jack (because he couldn’t really hug himself) and still smelled like home (which now had an added earthy aroma from how much time Mark spent in the garden). Jack loved him, not because he was perfect, but because of the man he actually was.

“You _are_ the positive side, Jack.” Mark’s mouth immediately snapped shut and he looked away. He cleared his throat. “I’m glad your stance has changed. It’s just like we always tell our fans: we’re real, normal people. We get put on these pedestals all the time as icons or celebrities but it’s mostly smoke and mirrors. You’re just a normal dude, and I’m just a normal dude. And together we’re two normal dudes being stupid and silly on camera. Besides, you’ve surpassed me by now. It’d just be wrong for you to still look up to me….”

Jack shook his head at the thought of not looking up to Mark just because Jack’s channel was bigger. Mark had still done so much _more_ with his channel and his community, plus he’d started before Jack. He had more experience, more connections, more diversity… Jack would always look up to him, but just not with quite so much awe and disbelief anymore.

“Of course, that has a downside too.” Jack smoothed his own thumb over the skin on Mark’s wrist, looking at their clasped hands. “You’re getting better every day. Stronger. There’s hardly a rasp at all to your voice. You’re going to have to go back home someday, and I… I’m gonna miss you more than ever now.” His voice barely cracked or wobbled at all. Jack was simultaneously proud of himself for not breaking down completely and mortified that he showed even that much emotion at something that was at _least_ a month away.

Mark’s grip on Jack’s fingers tightened. “I’m gonna miss you so fucking much, Jack. We have to try visiting more often. Even if it means me coming to Ireland. I don’t want to go a whole year before seeing you again. And I don’t want our only time spent together to be these brief moments during conventions…. We have to figure something out. And _no,_ that is _not_ the trauma talking.”

The emotion was heavy in Mark’s voice too. Jack gave in and looked up at Mark’s face, at the tension around his mouth and eyes from trying to hold back his own emotions. _I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you so much…_ Kissing wouldn’t solve the problem of Mark leaving. Kissing would make it _worse_. Tears pricked at the corners of Jack’s eyes, and he tried to sniff unobtrusively. “The trans-Atlantic flight fucking _sucks_. And prepping your channel for a trip long enough to make it worthwhile…” He could feel a tear escape the corner of his eye, but it hadn’t fallen and rolled down his cheek yet. Maybe Mark wouldn’t notice. Jack set his mug aside so he had a free hand to brush it away when he got a chance.

“It’s not… I _want_ to visit you more. And I want you to visit me. But it’s not as easy as just saying it, and it’ll...it’ll wear on us, after a while. And I… I’m not really the best at maintaining friendships. In case you haven’t noticed by my happenin’ social life.”

A furrow set itself in Mark's brow. "I know it's gonna be hard. I've been dealing with cross-country friends for years now. And maybe it's not the same as living a whole ocean and land mass away..." He stretched out his legs and sat up. He pulled away from Jack's hand just long enough to set his own cold mug of half-finished tea aside. Then he grabbed at Jack's hand again and gave it a squeeze. Mark pushed himself a little closer and stared Jack down. "I don't care. I don't care if it means taking my video production more seriously, or pushing through long flights, or dealing with waves of jet lag. _I don't care._  
  
"My schedule's always been sporadic anyway. Especially when I tell the community I'm visiting with friends. We could even film some stuff when we're together to make up for it. I could use the time on the flights to do other stuff for my channel; check up on social media and the fans. I was... I was starting to drift away from them even before the convention happened. It'll give me a chance to really reconnect after everything. I can do it." Mark gave Jack's hand another squeeze, and his expression softened a little. He reached out with his free hand. His thumb gently rubbed Jack’s tear. "We can make it work, Jack. Just like everything else. We've conquered obstacles bigger than this and I'm not gonna let you hide away from me. Just ask Bob and Wade. I'm like a fungus. Once you get me, I'm never going away."

Mark was close, so close, and Jack's eyes went wide as Mark brushed his tear away, practically cupping his face like a lover would. He had to look away from those soulful brown eyes, but oh, that was a mistake too, because it meant his gaze dropped to Mark's lips. Their fingers laced together almost automatically, and it would be so, so easy to just lean in...  
  
To lean in and _ruin everything_. Jack took a deep breath through his nose, forcing his eyes back up. Better to be pinned by Mark seeing too much than to be tempted by that smile.  
  
Mark's hand was on his shoulder now, and Jack squeezed Mark's hand in response. "We're not going to convince the communities at all that we aren't hiding something deeper from them," he whispered. _We're hardly convincing ourselves._ Septiplier was on everyone's minds as Mark recovered. Whenever they collaborated on a video, the comments filled with SEPTIPLIER AWAY! Mark's birthday vlog was full of squeals over how adorable they were together, and apparently the Tiny Box Tim cake was a declaration of undying love from Jack to Mark (and the tatertots proof that Mark wanted to have his babies). Jack had watched the vlog again this morning, trying to see what Thomas claimed was there. His own affection for Mark _was_ blatantly obvious in every scene. And Mark...? Mark was just Mark, same as always.

"Are we?" Mark’s gaze faltered and dropped along with the hand on Jack's shoulder. "I mean. It doesn't really matter, one way or another. They never seemed to believe us to begin with. Just let them think what they want. Most of its harmless, anyway."

"I don't know." Jack's voice was barely audible, rare for Jacksepticeye. He retreated as well, twisting his hands together. "Mark, I...I don't know anymore."  
  
_I am._ Jack knew he was hiding his feelings, but as long as it was unrequited, it didn't count. But _was_ it unrequited? Tom said no. Mark...Mark might be saying no too? Maybe? Jack's head was starting to hurt as he tried to analyze Mark's expression, his unease and sudden stammering as he tried to deflect the conversation.

Mark fiddled with the blades of grass between his fingers. His gaze kept flicking around their little haven beneath the willow branches. It never strayed to Jack for very long. “...Jack, I think I might… do you… Look, it’s… _fuck._ Jack. I-”

Whatever Mark was trying to say dropped instantly to the wayside as Chica’s frightened yip struck through the garden. Mark was tearing himself away from Jack without hesitation and stumbling to his feet. “Chica?!” He’d barely pushed through the branches before she was barreling past him; nearly bowling him over in the process. “Chica, what the f- _oh my God Jack!!_ ”

Jack jerked away from Mark at Chica’s frightened yip, staring after Mark in concern. “Chica, Chica, what’s…”

 _“Oh shit oh shit OH SHIT FUCK_ ** _FUCKJACK!!!_** _”_ Mark yelped much like his dog had as he turned heel and ran. “GET THE STICK GET THE STICK!!!!”

There was a badger, a _badger_ , a fucking _actual badger_ with a stripy head and chubby gray body stomping after Chica, and then after Mark, and Jack just sort of froze against the tree. And then started to laugh. “Holy _fuck_ , Mark! Of all the people to _actually_ get attacked by a badger!”

“JACK QUIT LAUGHING AND _HELP ME!!_ ”

It was Jack’s turn to yip as the badger turned away from the American and started toward him. He scrambled to his feet and backed away, still laughing. “Mark, Mark, it’s okay, it’s not as fast as us, probably just a momma or something, get Chica inside! She might have disturbed her burrow with babies or something, just get her inside. Here badger! Heeeeere badger badger badger, come after Jackaboy, that’s a good scary badger!” Chica was quite helpfully barking at the badger from several yards away.

“Jack I won’t forget your noble sacrifice! I’ll be sure to tell your community you died for a good cause.”

Chica was looking as if she might try going after the badger again. Mark jogged over to her. “Chica! Chica-bica, c’mon baby girl, c’mon puppy, let’s get inside where it’s safe. Jack’s gonna be okay. He’ll be okay, just c’mon. ‘Atta girl….”

Tom was ushered out the door by Mark. Chica, feeling braver within the safety of four walls, continued to bark at the badger from the nearby window. Tom sputtered and nearly tripped his way into the garden; looking around. “Jack?? Jack! Mark says there’s something trying to eat you should I call the cops-”

“I’m gonna go get the stick!!!!”

“Just get inside, Tom, there’s a badger!” Jack was still laughing as he kept backing away from the badger, luring her away from the door before making a run for it and sprinting back to the cottage. “Just… Mark, _no_! No sticks! We do not attack the wildlife! Jesus, it’s like you’ve never seen anything bigger than a squirrel!”

Jack made sure everyone was inside before closing the door tightly. “It’s _just_ a badger, and probably a momma badger, _with babies_ , that Chica startled. We’re not gonna hit her with sticks, we’re gonna let her _calm down and go home._ No going in the back garden for a while, okay? _No sticks, Mark_!”

Tom had, thankfully, gotten back inside. Mark proceeded to duck behind his older brother with stick in hand and eyes narrowed towards the door. He made no moves to go back out, but he looked like he was ready for a bloody battle to the death.

With the badger.

“... _fine._ No sticks. But if she puts one nasty claw on our tatertots then the kiddy gloves are coming off.”

The sound of Tom slapping his palm against his forehead was audible throughout the cottage.

Badgers ate all kinds of stuff. Vegetables. This badger was probably here because Mark had set a table for her. Jack smiled at patted Mark’s shoulder. “I’m sure the tatertots will be fine. She’ll probably just eat fish or something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	35. Evening 169: Sunset Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack forgets he had an important question to ask Mark.

The rest of the week had been mostly uneventful- at least, in comparison to the first half. They all managed to locate the badger’s burrow in the garden- it was behind the shed- and Mark put up a bit of a stick barrier to prevent Chica from digging around in there again. The golden retriever seemed quite content with letting sleeping badgers lie, however.

Sometimes, the three young men would gather together for video games or to watch a movie. Otherwise, though, Mark either tended to pair off with Jack or Tom. It most often depended on who was _working_ at the time. Chica was never very far behind.

Tom had called up a taxi to take him to the airport on the day he was leaving, since neither Mark or Jack could drive him. His bags were lighter without needing to carry some Chica essentials along. His expression was too. The week with Mark had done Tom just as much good. Their goodbyes started out stiff as everyone tried to keep it together, but inevitably devolved into a sappy, tearful mess. Mark let Tom hug him, and he hugged back equally hard. He promised he’d be coming home soon. Tom also made sure to shake hands with Jack before he left. The look conveyed by deep brown eyes spoke for itself. Tom might not be in the house anymore, but that didn’t mean he was going to stop keeping tabs on them both.

The handshake good-bye had not been nearly as tense as the handshake hello. Jack hadn’t said it with words, but he tried his best to convey his promise to Tom that he would continue to do everything he could to help Mark and not make things worse.

Tom left, and after a day or two of re-adjusting things had gone back to normal for the cottage’s inhabitants. The addition of Chica didn’t change up Mark and Jack’s dynamic all that much. Most nights, she stayed in her crate while the two men continued to share Jack’s bed. The pillow wall was in full effect and doing the trick; Jack hadn’t triggered Mark since that unfortunate morning. It was an unpleasant barrier between them and what they wanted, but they were finally beginning to pull it down- one pillow at a time. It was easier without Tom lingering only a few rooms away.

Mark’s continual drive to get fit and pulling Jack along with him was making things worse for Jack. Not that Jack had anything _against_ getting into shape again. He’d wanted to do it for a while. Years, even. But _actually_ working out...it was _exhausting._

Even if he was feeling better, more energized and active, and it was showing in his videos.

It was worth it to see Mark smile, growing more confident with his body with every day. The shed was a workout room, but with Chica around now, they had added evening runs to their schedule, runs which got Mark out of the house and around other people (though Jack had to hold the leash, so as not to trigger Mark with the accessory). Not that there were many people wandering the streets of Athlone’s outskirts in the early evenings, but they’d smile and nod or wave at other people with dogs. So far, they’d been lucky enough not to be recognized. Jack wasn’t entirely sure how Mark would react to a fan.

Mark shot Jack a small smile as they rounded a corner. “We should go to that one spot we found a few days ago; remember? With the awesome view of the river? I wanna see the sunset.”

Jack nodded along to Mark’s suggestion. “Yeah, let’s do that. Wonder if the ducks’ll still be there. We should bring some old bread next time if they are.” The ducks wouldn’t be scared off by Chica. If anything, Chica would be scared by the intimidating herd of waterfowl. He gave her leash a little tug, encouraging her to turn right with them as they headed for the river.

“I fuckin’ hate running,” Jack grumbled as they slowed down by the river bank. He stopped to let Chica sniff a tree, rubbing at his neck. “Seriously, how the fuck do I not sweat like normal people!?” He turned red and blotchy instead of properly sweating when he worked out. Running was the worst for it.

Mark gave a little chuckle. “It must be because you’re a leprechaun. I’ve never heard of leprechauns sweating but they do get all red when they’re hot and bothered. So maybe it’s proof of your secret mythical heritage! See? We’re making real _strides_ here, Jack. Besides, it’s good for you! You’ve got way more muscle tone in your legs now.” Mark beamed at Jack with his eyes and face more than his mouth, but the effect was still there. He stretched out a bit while they walked. Twisting his back and torso, pulling at his shoulders and elbows with a content hum.

Jack groaned, mock-smacking Mark upside the head (without actually making contact or coming anywhere near to making contact, just swatted his hand vaguely in Mark’s general direction). “Ugh! If I wanted puns, Markiplier, I would have invited Lord Minion out here! C’mon, Chica! C’mon, we’ll sit down soon. Don’t...okay, fine, you can pee on that tree.”

Jack had to wait for Chica to finish, which meant Mark got a few steps ahead of him, which meant Jack could let his eyes wander over Mark’s back and appreciate the fit of his shirt. Mark was filling out nicely. _Very_ nicely. His stupidly perfect genes were already reasserting their dominance. If the tables had been turned, Jack would have been a spindly twig for at _least_ a year before fleshing out to ‘stick.’ Mark, on the other hand, was already recovering his impressive biceps (and infamous ass--not that Jack was looking _there_. For very long).

Mark’s expression was smug. “Baby steps, Jack. Gotta start somewhere before I can dredge up what little humor I used to have. Besides, Wade would’ve done worse. You _know_ he would have.”

Jack sighed as Chica left the tree and hurried a couple steps to catch up to Mark. Much as he loved the view from behind, he liked being next to Mark as well. “Wait, wait, wait. _You_ used to have humor?” Jack side-stepped Mark’s retaliation with a laugh, sticking out his tongue.

“I know, it’s pretty hard to believe. But there was a smidgen there somewhere, Jack. Just _one little iota_ that kept the people coming. Y’know, when I wasn’t stealing _everyone else’s_ humor.”

“I won’t deny I’m a healthier leprechaun with having you around. It’s just itchy when I get like this.”

Mark reached over to prod at a patch of pale red on the side of Jack’s neck. “You should bring some ointment or something. You kinda look like a strawberry, with that green top and all. You’re gonna wreck your reputation as the Irish potato.” Mark poked at another spot on Jack’s arm.

The pokes were slightly ticklish and slightly unsettling and Jack squirmed and batted at Mark’s hands, the most defense he dared. “What are you doing!? Stop hating the strawberry! I’ll have you know, strawberries and cream are _very_ in this summer. Cream _skin_ , not...what you were just thinking!” Jack wagged a finger at Mark, knowing all too well where Mark’s immature mind would have gone. (Same place his did.)

Mark avoided Jack’s half-hearted swipes, hand snaking back in again and again to poke at a new patch of red. Mark giggled and wiggled his eyebrows a bit at Jack, nudging him with an elbow. “Why Jack, I have _no idea_ what you’re referring to! My mind only conjured up thoughts of creamy white Irish skin; gleaming in the sunlight for all of five seconds before it spontaneously combusted. Hopefully that’s not what yours is doing. I haven’t a _clue_ about what else could be white and creamy in that context.” Mark drawled; the picture of innocence.

The flush to Jack’s face wasn’t _entirely_ from his sweatless run as Jack failed to block Mark’s hands from poking at him, laughing at his friend’s expression. “Fuck you, Mark! For that, I’m _not_ gonna remind you next time that we should bring bread for the ducks!”

They reached the knoll, and Jack flung himself to the grass (gently), sprawling out in the setting sun. “This is my patch. Mine and Chica’s. Find your own, you crazed arm-poker!” He stretched his arms wide and stuck his tongue out at Mark again. Chica’s leash was looped around his wrist, keeping her from wandering too far.

“Hey now! Don’t take out your frustrations on the innocent little duckies! They need to eat too.” Mark climbed the slight incline with Jack. He let his hands come to rest on his hips. Chica was contently sniffing about the familiar territory in a broad circle; much as her leash would allow. “Excuse you. For the record, my title is _‘the crazed_ ** _butt-stabber_** _’,_ Jack. And seeing as I _can’t_ stab your butt when you’re laying on it, I’ll just have to take other measures. Prepare yourself.”

Mark plopped down into a cross-legged sitting position, facing Jack, and attacked. Except he didn’t just poke at Jack’s red spots this time. He specifically zeroed in on Jack’s ticklish spots. “Admit I’m funny! Admit it!!”

Jack _howled_ as Mark tickled him, thrashing around on the grass and laughing until he was breathless. He was swatting at Mark as best he could with no real thought to Mark’s triggers; if Mark reacted badly, it was his own damn fault for tickling Jack in the first place.

“M-making...making me l-l-laugh from _tickling_ doesn’t...doesn’t...doesn’t count!” Jack wished he could retaliate better, wished he could tickle Mark back, or wrestle him down, pin his arms to stop the onslaught. All he could really do was curl up and smack at Mark’s hands and arms, tucking his chin against his chest, his forearms against his sides, desperately trying to protect his stomach. “Stooooooooooop! Stop, stop, mercy, _fine_! You’re funny!”

Mark was smiling cheekily as he released Jack from his tickle torture and sat back. “Well if _you_ think I’m funny then it just _must_ be true. Thanks Jack, you’re the _best._ ” Mark exaggerated the words on purpose _._

Jack curled up, protecting his belly as he panted for breath. Once he managed that, he angled a grin over at Mark from behind an arm. “...funny _looking_!” He was still giggling, shaking with lingering tremors from his laughter and the tickle attack. Really, Mark should’ve seen that coming.

Mark gasped. _“Rude.”_ His expression mellowed out some as he reached up to touch his own face; brushing fingertips along one of the more prominent scars. “I am funny….”

Mark’s face fell, his gaze turning inward, and Jack was immediately pushing himself up. “No, Mark, _no_ , that’s not what I meant…” He reached out, catching Mark’s hand and drawing it away from the scar. “You’re healing, Mark, you _are_. These are fading.” He brushed his fingers over the scar himself, catching his breath for a moment when he realized what he was doing. Touching Mark’s face was a no-no. He drew his hand back, but he kept his grip on Mark’s hand with his other.

“And they don’t...they don’t really change how you look. Not _really_. You just notice them more because they’re on your face, like how whenever you get a zit, you’re sure everyone’s staring at it, but really, almost no one notices unless it is amazingly huge or poorly placed. And these aren’t like that. I’m not just saying that to make you feel better either.” Jack was sitting close to Mark, studying his face. They were nearly as close as they’d been under the willow.

They never had finished that conversation. Jack wasn’t sure if he wanted to or not.

“Yes, people are gonna notice them. And probably ask about them, at conventions and stuff, or in your ask box or comments. But Mark, you’re not...they don’t make you _funny-looking_. And certainly not ugly. And you’re…” Jack gestured at Mark’s body with his free hand.

“I-I know. I know it’s not, Jack, of course it’s not I just…” Mark squeezed Jack’s hand. “...I know it’s hypocritical. For me to be so worried about them, after all the… after everything I’ve told people about not being ashamed. I was never upset about my other scars. I should be over this by now.”

Jack interlaced their fingers and returned the squeeze. They were technically in public, even if there was no one else around. He shouldn't lean in, shouldn't focus on Mark's mouth as it moved.

Goddamn Tom. Ever since their talk, Jack kept wanting to kiss Mark more and more.

“Mark, your muscle is coming back. It’s so ridiculously not fair, you’re not working out all that much more than I am, but you’re already twice as buff. You’re not…” Jack gave Mark a crooked smile. “Let’s just say that none of your fangirls are going to be disappointed.”

“Oh great, more squealing on the streets. Looks like your competition for hottest YouTuber is back in action, Jacksepticeye. Buffiplier raises you plus ten biceps- how do you respond?”

Jack laughed as Mark claimed _he_ had any chance of being the hottest YouTuber even without Mark. “Oh please, have you _seen_ Felix? I have no chance against that impressive specimen of a Swedish Viking...but everyone knows Buffiplier deserves the title of the heartthrob of YouTube. Felix has _nothing_ on your voice.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “I’ll concede to having one of the best voices on YouTube.” Jack practically choked on his own tongue when Mark's voice dropped into that honey-smooth register. He _knew_ his eyes went wide, and it was all he could do to not squeeze Mark's hand tight. That was a voice that he hadn't heard in _months_ , and never actually directed at him.

“And I guess if you’re into the whole pillaging viking thing, then Felix would be king in your books without a doubt. But you’re a real contender here, Jack. I mean just look at you. You’ve got the adorable accent, bright blue eyes and vibrant green hair and your smile could rekindle the damn sun if it burned out. And your-” Mark went pink and he pulled back. “I mean… you look good, Jack. You should give yourself more credit.”

“Felix…” In contrast to Mark's deep roll, Jack's voice squeaked out, and he had to clear his throat, his cheeks pink-tinged. “Felix has the blond haired, blue-eyed thing going for him. Most people wouldn't consider _green_ hair attractive, not even my fellow Irishmen…”

Mark pulled back, and Jack retreated as well, staring at the embarrassed flush on Mark's face. That had been...quite a long list of Jack's attractive qualities. _Why Mark, I didn't know you'd noticed…_ He should say it. Make it a joke. Laugh it off. He couldn't find the voice.

Mark puffed out a breath as if the idea of Felix being more attractive than Jack was ludicrous. “It suits you.” He combed fingers through his own hair. “...sorry, that got pretty silly there for a second. You know me. Always rambling and just running my mouth to spit out whatever inane thoughts come to me next. I’m like a shitpost generator...really, though. Under all the bullshit I’m basically saying you _are_ attractive, Jack. The fan base doesn’t lie.”

Right. _Right._ Just Mark's rambling as usual. No reason to want to tackle him to the grass and dust his pink face with kisses. Jack turned to look at the sunset as well, because it was far less tempting than Mark right now.

“If we're gonna be all mushy about it, you're hot as hell again, Mark. You're not...You're not the living corpse you were when…” _I found you._

Jack took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “And it's not that the community _lies._ They just think people they love are more attractive than they objectively are, just _because_ they love them.” And Jack had no doubts that his community loved him. It was one of his biggest sources of pride in his life.

He was still holding Mark's hand. Their fingers were still laced together. Maybe they should stop that.

Jack didn't let go.

Mark didn’t either.

Mark shook his head a bit. “Fine then. As your _friend,_ and not just your fan, you can believe my opinion’s not as tainted. You’re hot, Jack. Just accept it. If I gotta, then you gotta.” He stated it matter-of-factly; leaving no more room for argument. “There’s almost no clouds today. It’s a really nice sunset. I kind of wanna take a picture.”

“...fine.” They'd been resting long enough that Jack couldn't really blame his pink skin on his sweat problems, but if it kept Mark happy…

Mark was still much hotter than Jack. Jack knew he wasn't _ugly_ , and he did have a tendency to become “accidental model Jacksepticeye,” but he'd never considered himself especially good looking. Not like Felix, with his European gorgeousness, or like Mark, who was small, dark, and handsome. If Mark was insecure about his appearance though, Jack shouldn't exacerbate it by denigrating his own.

“Go for it. Sunsets like this one are meant for pictures.” Jack settled back on the grass, watching Mark watch the sunset paint the sky.

Sitting up again with a newfound eagerness, Mark fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up the camera. After taking a photo of the sunset over the River Shannon, he turned to fully face Jack. “Smile.”

Jack was already smiling from Mark's relaxed body language as he whipped out his camera. He didn't bother changing his expression at all as Mark turned it on him. Jack had given Mark blanket permission for photos way back when he first encouraged a selfie, in an attempt to help calm Mark down about the act of recording life. Mark just had to get his approval before _posting_ anything with him in it.

Belatedly, he realized that maybe he should have changed his smile. Jack had been looking softly at Mark, not really trying to conceal his affection for the other man. If Mark wanted to post it, it would likely launch a thousand new Septiplier shippers into the wild.

Mark snapped the picture before Jack could change his mind. Too late now. Jack sat up again, making a grabby hand at the phone. “Show me?” He wouldn't make Mark delete it if it were inappropriate for the internet. Mark wouldn't use photos like that one against him.

Mark let Jack take the phone and turned to cuddle Chica instead, pressing his face against her neck. The retriever had no qualms with her daddy suddenly showering her with attention.

Jack stared down at his image on the phone screen, his mouth going dry at how fucking _obvious_ it was that he was in love with Mark. _Shit…_ Tom really did have a point.

He was also, he reluctantly admitted, pretty damn good-looking in this photo. It was all because of the sunset and the angle of the light, but this would definitely have to go into the “accidental model" category if it ever slipped onto the internet.

 _I always look so derpy…_ It would be easy to make a joke of the expression, but Mark wouldn't accept it at all, and they'd only get in another argument about their respective attractiveness. Jack passed the phone back to Mark, who was obliviously cuddling Chica. “ _That_ one's not going online,” was all he said. It was all he could say. Maybe Mark wouldn't realize the true reason why not.

Maybe he would?

Mark accepted the phone back and pocketed the little device. He sat up, but kept his arm around Chica. “...didn’t you mention there was something you wanted to talk about while we were out?”

“Yeah, about that…” Jack had been hesitating about asking Mark something all day. He took a deep breath, looking at the river. “You know I've been in touch with Phil. Lester. He wrote to me the other day to say that he and Dan had some spare time next week...and they'd like to come visit.”

Aside from Tom and Maggie, there hadn't been any visitors to the little cottage. Aside from medical professionals, Mark hadn't really interacted face-to-face with people. Jack wasn't sure how Mark would take guests.

“Specifically...Dan actually wants to visit with you. If you're okay with it.” Jack glanced over at Mark to gauge his response.

Mark’s expression dipped a bit. He cuddled Chica  bit closer. “...did he say why? Is he really okay with coming all the way out here?”

“To trade cupcake recipes?” Jack immediately shook his head. “No, I'm sorry. He didn't say specifically why, but he did say Dan had stressed it was absolutely only if you were up for it. I guess that means it's for your benefit more than his. And, I mean...I'd kinda like a chance to actually _talk_ with Phil. Face-to-face. He...he gets my side of things better than anyone else, even my therapist.”

Jack plucked at the grass, watching Mark's unease. “They only live in London. That's hardly any distance. They could even visit as a day trip. Ireland isn't _that_ remote. It's not like if they were going to fly to L.A. But...yeah. Like Dan, if you're not up for it, I'm not gonna push you.”

Mark hunkered down close to Chica as he considered the idea. Eventually, he sighed. He squeezed at Jack’s hand, cuddled Chica and looked off at the sunset again. The orange hues were beginning to darken to red as the light faded with its source. “...okay. Okay, we’ll try it. If I’m gonna meet up with them, it might as well be while I’m still here. Easier on everyone that way.”

Jack smiled, stroking his thumb over Mark’s knuckle. “I’ll let Phil know when we get back, so he can make plans. They don’t...I’m not going to offer them a place to stay or anything like that, and I’m sure they’ll understand if we kick them out when you’re done. And if...even if day of, you change your mind, that’s fine. I can always meet Phil outside the house.” The cottage was Mark’s sanctuary. Jack understood that. He wouldn’t ask Mark to let anyone in he didn’t want to.

He suspected Dan and Phil understood it too. If anyone would, they would. And they _were_ still together, as housemates and best friends, even if Phan was as made up as Septiplier. Maybe Phil had some advice on how to push through when the bad days seemed overwhelming.

“Okay.”

Jack squeezed Mark’s fingers, then gave his hand a little tug. “We should probably head back, if we want to get home before the light fades completely. Ready for round two of the run?”

Mark took one last look at the dying sun, leaned over to press a kiss to Chica’s fluffy head and squeezed Jack’s hand. The retriever gave him a lick on the chin in response. “Yeah. I’m ready. I think that question would be better for _you,_ Mr. Itchy Skin. Think you can handle jogging all the way back home?”

“I’ll be fine,” Jack assured Mark, wrinkling his nose and _finally_ releasing Mark’s hand so he could stand up. He immediately missed it. Would it be weird to run back home holding hands?

Yes. Yes it would. Even if they were a couple, it would be weird. _Stop being weird, Jackaboy._

“But I call first shower! You’ll just have to marinate in your man-juices a bit.” Mark actually got sweaty when he went on these runs, but the shower was really the only thing to give Jack actual relief from his not-sweat. “Or...we _could_ race for it…”

Mark got up as well and Chica was quick to follow suit. It was obvious she was eager to get moving again. He reached down to affectionately ruffle her head and ears with a hand. “Eugh, Jack, geez. Make it sound a little more gross, why don’t you?” He scrunched up his nose. “Oh? You think you can beat _moi?_ At physical activity? _You’re on, Jackaboy._ ”

“Speed is key!” Jack crowed. “C’mon, Chica! Let’s go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	36. Day 174: TheAmazingPhil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pair of Brits and an Irishman walk into a cottage...

Jack was waiting at the train station, sitting on a bench and playing a simple match-3 phone game. The train from Dublin was due in soon, and while Jack had tried to explain which buses Dan and Phil would need to take to get to the stop closest to the cottage, he had the direction-giving abilities of a flea and Phil apparently had the direction-receiving abilities of a gnat, so...Jack went to meet them at the station. It was just easier.

He tugged his hood down further over his beanie as a group of school boys walked past, laughing loudly about something they’d seen on the telly last night. Jack was currently in inconspicuous mode, with a beanie and a plain black hoodie hiding his hair, his glasses on, and his posture hunched. Hopefully no one looked too hard.

The train from Dublin pulled into the station precisely on time, and Jack shoved his phone away, getting to his feet. Dan and Phil would be...yep, a pair of giants towering over the rest of the crowd. Well, not over _everyone_ , the Irish weren’t short as a whole, but they were definitely taller than Jack. It felt so odd approaching them, after mostly dealing with Mark or people who were sitting down.

“Top o’ the mornin’ to ya,” Jack said, strolling up to the pair with his hands in his pockets. Dan turned to him with a smile, and Phil beamed down at him. It was a little odd seeing him in his thick black framed glasses. They were only going to be in Athlone for the day, having acquired a hotel room in Dublin next to the airport for their flight back to London tomorrow morning, so they hadn’t brought any bags with them. Jack nodded his head toward the exit. “Buses are that way.”

There wasn’t really much chance to talk on the crowded bus. The three YouTubers stood, holding onto railings, and Jack tried not to stare at how Dan’s fingers twisted like Mark’s did. _Fuck._ Some things really wouldn’t ever heal. They weren’t badly crooked...but they were enough. And there were scars climbing up from under the collar of his turtleneck when he turned his head to talk to Phil, murmur something quiet only the two of them could hear. Jack looked away, stared out the window. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

But Dan and Phil _understood_. They had survived so much of what Mark and Jack were battling with. The scars and marks on Dan’s body were testament to his survival, just as they were testaments to Mark’s. If anyone could help them, it would be these two. Jack took a deep breath and looked back. Yes. Mark had been interested in this idea, and Dan… Dan was smiling a little, tucking a laugh into Phil’s arm as the bus rocked them together around a corner. Dan was in public and standing tall and not cringing, not cowering, not _panicking_. There was a shadow in his eyes still, tension in his smile...but it wasn’t overwhelming like Mark’s could be. And Dan wasn’t _afraid_. His body language was fairly relaxed and open. Maybe this was a good thing.

The British YouTubers trailed after Jack to the little cottage, not really saying much as they took in the scenery of the Irish country road. Jack glanced back to see their hands clasped together, fingers interlaced. That much, at least, he understood. Mark often reached out to him when they ventured outside together, such as to go to Mark’s doctor appointments or to their therapists or, more recently, to walk Chica. They tried not to cling too much in _public_ public, but on this quiet road, they really didn’t care who saw them. Jack didn’t, at least.

“So...here we are,” he said, finally breaking the silence as he unlocked the front door and pushed it open. “Mark! I’m home! And I got Dan and Phil!”

“He didn’t lose us!” Dan called, then grinned over at Phil. Jack stuck out his tongue at the younger man, shoving his hood back and pulling his hat off. Dan giggled. “Wow, the floof, it is real.”

“You should’ve seen it before I got it cut,” Jack quipped back. He could hear Mark coming through the house, with Chica running ahead.

Chica was sniffing and snuffling at the long legs of the strangers that had infiltrated her new home. She was always a curious dog, but now that she had Mark back she had become supremely protective of her human. (Jack as well, though to a lesser extent.) Phil was gasping before the retriever even made it to the door. “Oh my God.” His fists clenched and his arms went up as unbridled glee shone on his face. “Oh my _God._ You’ve got a dog. Oh my God. Dan! They have a _dog._ ” The Brit was dropping into a crouch and welcoming Chica’s wet doggy nose with open arms. He looked like a little kid once she was satisfied with her “security check” and allowed him to touch her. Fur-scrubbing and ruffling rapidly devolved into a full blown hug. The noise Phil made was adorably pathetic. “Worth the trip alone. This right here. Perfect.” Chica just looked bemused.

“Aaand he’s gone,” Dan said, watching the pair with a fond little smile. “Forget anything else. Doge takes priority.” Of course, he was stepping in to let Chica sniff his hand as Phil cuddled her, giving her a scratch behind her ears. “Cute doge, best doge.” Chica gave a little yip and swiveled her head around away from the newcomers as her master stepped into the room.

While Dan and Phil greeted Chica, Jack made his way to Mark’s side. He brushed his fingers against Mark’s wrist and caught his eye. _Okay? We okay? This okay?_

Mark glanced down at Jack’s fingers, then up to meet his eyes. His attempt at silence reassurance was weak. “Made of pure gold and fluffy stuff, that’s Chica-bica. I’m relieved she’s okay with you two….” He shuffled forward, closer to Jack and Chica than Dan and Phil, and turned his faltering smile toward them. “It’s pretty cool to see you guys again. I mean, what, I think we shared an elevator like two years ago at a con? We should’ve snapped another pic. For some reason our encounters are like finding rare Pokemon. See you haven’t gotten any less _tall,_ though.”

Phil laughed and finally straightened; leaving Chica to sit by Mark’s feet. “And you haven’t gotten any less short,” he teased. “It really is good to see you two again. And for more than a quick hullo and ta-ta for once! Special day indeed.” He exaggerated his northern accent and Mark seemed to relax a little.

“So,” Dan said, as Chica moved on, “shoes on or off or…?”

“Fuck, I don’t care,” Jack assured the pair. “I leave mine on unless I get too hot.”

“Good,” Dan said. “Cause these are a bitch to unlace.” He had black boots on over his skinny jeans, and a black jumper over his turtleneck. He finally looked from Chica to Phil to Mark, his brown eyes skimming down Mark’s body before returning to his face, to his eyes. Jack watched as their gazes met, and there was something reflected there, a silent communication. Dan stepped forward, drawing one of his hands with the twisted fingers out of his pocket and offering it to Mark. “Hey.”

 _He’s not gonna-_ Jack almost said, but he stopped even his thoughts, staying back and watching to see what Mark _actually_ did. There were scars on Dan’s fingers, pale and faded, but still there. Still matching Mark’s. Maybe Mark _would_ reach out. Maybe.

Dark brown eyes met chocolate ones and the tremble that had started up in Mark’s hands went abruptly still. He was frozen, not even breathing, as he met Dan’s gaze. Eventually, his eyes dragged down to the hand Dan was offering. As if he was in a trance, Mark lifted his own hand with a jerky motion, reaching for Dan’s and sliding their fingers together, then their palms. They were holding hands. Mark breathed out and looked up at Dan’s face again like the taller man had hung the moon. “...hey.”

Jack let out a shaky breath as Mark actually reached for Dan’s hand, grasped it, _spoke_. He felt some of the tension--hell, _most_ of the tension--leave his body, and he sagged a little. Mark and Dan were touching and not letting go and _this was the best idea ever._

Phil, having been watching the scene in silence, glanced over to Jack. He shot Jack a reassuring smile that was far more convincing than Mark’s had been.

Dan broke Mark’s gaze to shoot a look at Phil, a giddy little _look what I just did!_ but then his eyes were back on Mark’s and his giddiness turned into something more shadowed and serious, but he was still smiling. “I’m glad you’re here.” It was perhaps an odd thing to say when you were the guest, but Jack knew what Dan meant.

_I’m glad you’re alive._

Jack closed his eyes, curling his arms around his waist. _Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…_ Dan understood. Dan _got it_ , in a way Jack didn’t, and Mark was already responding to that, looking up at the taller man with awe in his eyes. Jack didn’t even feel a tinge of possessive jealousy like he had when Tom first showed up. Something about Dan, how he carried himself, how he looked at Mark was different, softer. Dan wasn’t a _threat_. He was an ally.

Phil had just shot Dan a little double thumbs-up when the younger man looked his way, and then he stepped up to Jack. Gently, Phil brought his hands up to settle them on Jack’s narrow shoulders; squeezing. “Hey. Jack. Jacky-boy. Stay with me, all right? _Follow the sound of my voice._ ” He said the last bit a smidge comically, a smidge seriously. “You want a hug?” His voice was quiet, not disturbing the two traumatized men standing a few feet away.

Dan and Mark murmured quietly to each other before Dan was guiding Mark out of the front hall and away from Jack and Phil. Chica gave a little yip and padded out of the room, probably in search of her favorite squeaky toy.

Jack nodded mutely at Phil’s offer, unconsciously turning blue puppy dog eyes up at the taller man. A hug would be _greatly_ appreciated right now. Mark was okay. Mark was _okay_ , and Jack felt like he was the one falling apart.

Phil held an easy smile and pulled the little Irishman into a warm hug. “I’ve gotcha.” He gave the back of Jack’s shoulder a little pat. The other arm remained locked securely around Jack’s lower back. He tone was light and inviting. “Congratulations, Jacksepticeye. You’re officially the first green-haired Irish person I’ve ever hugged. Wild, am I right?”

Jack huffed a little laugh into Phil’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around the older man as if they’d known each other for years. “You’d think there’d be more of us around, but you’d be surprised. The green-haired ones are the rarest. Amazing how stereotypes work.” He wasn’t crying. He _wasn’t_. He was just really choked up.

“Like finding a shiny Pokemon?” Phil’s smile evolved into a grin.

Mark had left the room, and Jack didn’t need to be quite as strong. He allowed himself to indulge in Phil’s support for a minute longer before drawing back and wiping his sleeve over his eyes. “So, uh… want to sit down? Want anything to eat or drink?” He _could_ be a good host. His mother wouldn’t be completely distraught.

Phil let go of Jack as he pulled away. “Yeah, let’s go snag a chair or something and we can have our own talk. Mark isn’t the only one we flew over for…. If you’ve got any tea, that’d be great. Or just water otherwise. You Irish lot big on tea?” Phil pulled fully away from Jack and kept his tone teasing.

“Are we… oh _please_. We Irish put you Brits to shame when it comes to tea!” Jack offered Phil a shaky grin back. “Come on. Kitchen’s this way.”

“That sounds like a challenge, _mate._ ” Phil trailed after Jack; taking in the cottage as they went. He gave a little nod as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. “Nice house. It’s got that quaint, cozy feel to it. Great place for anyone to get away from the world and recover. Kudos.”

It was weird to make tea for not-Mark. Jack pulled out a YouTube mug and a SepticEye mug, setting them near the kettle. “Do you… I’ve gotten Mark addicted to tea, by brewing him a cuppa whenever he’s having...a bad time.”

Phil had to know what Jack meant by that. Dan had to have had his bad moments too. Jack dropped tea bags into the mugs and took a deep breath. “Do you and Dan… have ways of calming down?” He glanced back at the taller man, wondering if Phil had any new advice.

While Phil’s expression remained calm, it slipped into something a little more serious. “Good move. Plus I’m impressed you managed to get an American addicted to tea.”

Gaze sliding away from Jack, Phil gave a thoughtful hum. He gripped the edge of the counter behind him with his hands. “A few, yeah. Tea’s one of them. Just sitting together in a soft, safe space helps too. Syncing up our breathing; our heartbeats, sometimes. He likes listening to mine. I’ll let him lay out on top of me and we’ll just watch movies or listen to music. He likes being outside on sunny days, too. He missed them while he was…” Phil shook his head. “Occasionally, if he’s having a really off day, I’ll make him a giant bowl of popcorn and we’ll watch some of our old videos. Or we’ll scroll through fan stuff together and laugh. Anything I can do to get his mind off that place and _them_ and what _they_ did, I’ll do it. Anything he wants. I’ve found just listening to him works better than anything.”

“Fan stuff helps Mark,” Jack agreed, nodding. “Though...I’ve had to curate it for him. #Markifart means definitely not tainted with… _those_ pictures.” The worst the Phandom could have done was draw fanart of Dan in that room. The Markiplites had a whole host of material to reblog or remake that could easily trigger Mark. “He’s completely taken over the garden, which is good. I _like_ outside. I don’t like being responsible for it. He really loves it, though, loves the physicality of it, loves seeing the difference he’s made...the garden’s really helped him. If we’re ever broaching a sensitive topic, we do it out there, weather permitting.”

A bit of sadness entered Phil’s face and eyes. “It’s good the two of you have a nice private space out there. We have to go to a park if we want to relax with nature. Which isn’t too bad, now. But back then it could be _Hell_ getting there with Dan.”

“It’s really been a blessing,” Jack admitted. “I didn’t like the house at first, I just bought it cause I needed to move, what with Mark being dumped at my door. I couldn’t...couldn’t bring him back there after the hospital. But Mark’s absolutely fallen for the whole place, the garden, the old-fashioned wood everywhere, the _quaintness_...and it’s been growing on me. Becoming home.”

It was home more because of Mark than because Jack really loved the cottage himself. Jack didn’t want to think about what that would mean after Mark left it.

The kettle clicked off, and Jack poured two mugs of steaming tea. “Sugar, milk?” he asked, not letting the question interrupt the conversation.

“Both, thanks.”

“He’s…” Jack prepared their teas and offered Phil the YouTube mug. “He’s come _so far_ , but at the same time…” Jack clasped his hands around the SepticEye mug, staring down at his tea. At the same time, it had been nearly a hundred days, and this was the first time Mark had agreed to meet someone who was neither family nor working for him. He still flinched and cringed and fell into melancholy moods so much more than he ever had before. Jack wasn’t so naive as to think Mark would be _healed_ , but on the darker days, it was so easy to get discouraged.

Phil accepted his mug with a murmured thanks and blew gently at the steaming surface of the tea. He let the comfortable silence linger between them for a few moments before speaking up again. “At the same time, you’ve got a long way to go. I understand. I _still_ get thoughts like that, on Dan’s bad days. ‘It’s been years, we’ve pulled through so much, why is he still suffering like this?’ It’s not fair. Especially not to them. But unfortunately emotions and feelings can be really, _really_ dumb and impossible to just get rid of like an old trash bag. They stick to you and come back as some nasty mental rash when you least expect them to. Less so with time and effort, but… it never goes away permanently. You just… get accustomed to it, I guess. Roll with the punches.”

Jack took his mug over to the windows in the dining room, glancing out at the two men sitting under the willow tree. Mark was still holding Dan’s hand.

“He’s never going to be fixed.” Jack’s voice was quiet. “He’ll get better, but he’ll always be...fractured.” He closed his eyes, then turned away. Mark didn’t like being watched from windows. “We can sit in the living room. The couch is more comfortable.”

Phil glanced out the window as well, then turned away to follow Jack. “Fractured, but not broken. That’s what you always have to remind yourself.” Phil gave a little nod and sipped at his tea. He sat down on the couch without much preamble and leaned back, his body language offering more support for Jack. “So. What’s up?”

Jack sat next to Phil after a bit of hesitation. Not directly beside him, but on the next cushion over. He could lean in if he needed to, or stay where he was, a respectful distance away. He balanced his mug on one knee, holding it with both hands. “Does it… does it ever stop being exhausting?” His shoulders slumped in defeat just from _asking_ that question, voicing his private fears. “I would do _anything_ for him, anything to help him get better, but there are times where I just…”

Where he wanted to shake Mark. To shout at him. To scold him for his mental relapses and triggers and paranoia. None of that would help. None of it was Mark’s fault. But the level of self-control Jack needed to exercise around Mark was astronomical. Like that evening he brought up Dan and Phil coming out for a visit. He’d made a joke, a groan-worthy joke, that Mark himself had set up...and set Mark reeling down a dark path. “I miss it being _easy_ with him…”

Phil took a long sip from his mug. “Not really. I mean, I guess? It gets easier, I suppose. You get used to it, find ways to cope and keep your energy up. They get better at managing themselves and don’t rely on you so much. But it’s still draining. Remembering the triggers, watching for the signs, pulling them back whenever something sends them to the brink. It’ll never be _easy._ And sometimes, it’ll be best if you set aside time purely for yourself. Get someone else you trust to help out for a little while. Trust me, you are _not_ abandoning him. It’ll be better for you both in the long run and he’ll _understand._ He will. You need to take care of yourself too….”

“His brother came out for a week for his birthday,” Jack said. “Brought Chica. We made a vlog for his birthday. First time he was on video since…” He swallowed, then lifted his mug to take a long sip of his tea. “It...helped. Having Tom around. I coached him on what not to do, and after one spectacular breakdown on the first day, Tom got it. And I could...rest. Sleep better. _Feel_ better. But there isn’t...there isn’t really anyone else around here that we both trust that much. My family, maybe, but he doesn’t really know them. It’s the downside of being in Ireland. We’re pretty isolated.”

Phil nodded silently along with what Jack was saying, then hummed and took another sip of his tea. “That’s a real conundrum, not gonna lie. Wish we could help out but we’re still quite a few hours away ourselves. And I don’t really think we’re close enough, relationship wise, to be that person anyway. Mmm…” He leaned back a bit further into the couch. “Have you at least tried setting up some time slots apart? Still under the same roof and all, but not keeping tabs on each other twenty-four seven? You said Mark likes the garden…”

Jack shrugged. “When I’m recording videos, he does his own thing. And I do all the shopping and stuff. He doesn’t really leave the house much except to see doctors or the therapist, and I do go with him then. I don’t usually bother him when he’s in the garden, and he doesn’t usually bug me when I’m keeping up with the community, but I mean… I’m basically his entire world. He has a hard time coping with anyone else. He almost didn’t agree to the two of you coming to visit.”

Jack fiddled with his mug, then glanced over at Phil. “I’m glad you did. Dan...he looks good. Not fixed, but...not broken. I think Mark needed to see that. That he’s not gonna be broken forever. That he really will get better. Even after this.”

“For a while, I was Dan’s entire world. Even after everything they did to try and ruin our relationship. He had a better opportunity to reconnect with friends and family than Mark does here, but at first he was too scared. Too mucked up from the things they did to him. He didn’t want them to see him like that- hated that _I_ was seeing him like that. But someone had to help him, and I was already in elbows deep. Just like you.” Phil had gotten a distant look in his eyes as he fingered the ceramic of his mug. There was a furrow in his brow. “...but we re-introduced him to other people. Little bits at a time- baby steps. It might take Mark more time, but I think you should both try to have him interact with people more. Maybe take him shopping with you one day, somewhere small. On one of his really good days. Progression’s important at the right pace.”

Phil glanced towards the window again, a tender affection obvious in his eyes. “It’s good to have living, breathing examples of what the future can hold in front of you. To know everything’s not lost; that you’ve got a chance to feel better. To live again. Dan… Dan didn’t really have that, until he managed to visit a few support groups. Meetings with other survivors like him. When we tried contacting Troye and Tyler, they wouldn’t really talk to us. Let alone _see_ us. And after Hannah… well, we gave Grace our condolences and left it at that. Told her we’d be there if she ever wanted to talk. She still hasn’t contacted us…”

Phil looked over at Jack again. “But then, Dan saw Mark was starting to post online again. He saw the scars and shadows but also saw how Mark was obviously trying to push through it all. Push through it with you. And he suggested we try again, one more time. He was so ecstatic when I told him Mark was okay with it. I was… am… really grateful to you. _Both_ of you. Dan wanted to do this mostly for Mark, and I wanted to come and help you out in person too. But… being here and seeing Mark, talking it out with him… it’s so _good_ for Dan. It’s a bit of closure. Something I could never give him… so, thank you. Really.”

“You really love him,” Jack said quietly, watching how Phil looked toward Dan even though Dan wasn’t even in the cottage, seeing the softness in Phil’s eyes, hearing the affection in his voice.

Phil snorted softly and looked a _little_ abashed. “Not even ironically.” He looked towards the window again, then leaned forward this time to rest elbows on his knees and cradled the mug between his hands, smiling into his tea.

“I don’t know how you ever managed to get through all of this… you had no idea what was going on. I at least _knew_ Mark would be dumped after ninety days, one way or another. And...and I got to see what was happening to him. Know. Not that that really helped, but I guess it was better than uncertainty.” Jack glanced at Phil again, then scooted a little closer on the couch. He could support the older man too. If Mark was able to provide some closure for Dan, maybe Jack could do the same for Phil.

“I don’t know how I’d’ve done this if I didn’t know you’d already pulled through it. And that you and Dan remained friends. I don’t know if I would have had the strength to be the first. You two are...really incredible. Thank _you_.”

“To be honest… I’m not entirely sure, either. It’s a miracle, really. That we found a way. That he trusted me enough to help see him through it all…. I had absolutely _no idea_ what the bloody Hell I was even doing.”

Phil chuckled a bit. “At one point, I thought I’d _never_ see him again. Not even a body. People were telling me to move on after the first month. Police had just about given up after the second. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. Fell into a real dark place sometime during the third month and couldn’t even upload anymore. ‘What was the point’, I’d ask myself, ‘if Dan is still out there, missing and maybe hurt or in danger or _dead?’_ Swear my parents almost put me in a mental hospital. But then…

“Then I found Dan on my doorstep. And it was _horrifying._ I thought he was dead, at first. And then he was _alive._ And he was so traumatized I thought I was gonna lose him anyway. The ambulance couldn’t get there fast enough. The doctors couldn’t give me the news soon enough. Dan… Dan didn’t wake up for a while. And when he did, the nightmare just got worse in ways I’d never even anticipated. He couldn’t…” Phil choked up a bit and pressed a hand to his face. “Damn, what am I doing? I’m supposed to be helping _you_ out and here I am rambling…. I’m sorry. Just- just give me a minute, I...” He drew a shuddering breath.

Jack closed the distance between himself and Phil, freeing one hand from his mug to wrap around Phil’s back and tug him close in a hug. “No, it’s...it’s okay. It’s okay, you can be… I get it. I _do_.”

He and Phil were the only two people in the _world_ who understood what it was like to watch their best friend try to struggle back from being so horrifically brutalized. Jack remembered those first days in the hospital, those first panic attacks, that whole mess with the collar. Dan likely had his own traumas. He certainly had a lot of neck injuries. Even the turtleneck he wore didn’t hide the scars that crawled up his pale skin and over his jaw.

“We don’t have it easy. We don’t have it nearly as hard as they do, but we don’t have it easy. And we can’t...we can’t break down to them, because they need us to be strong, to tell them it’s going to be okay, we’re here. And nobody else...nobody else gets it. On...on the last day, everyone, all our friends, were _happy_ , because Mark’s torture was gonna be over, and I was just so numb inside because I thought I’d be finding his corpse, and I just… I just… I get it. It’s okay.” Jack rubbed Phil’s back lightly, unconsciously holding him like he’d hold Mark, not too tight, not letting his hand wander from the approved area.

Phil turned to sink into Jack’s hug. The grip on his mug was loose as he looped his free arm around Jack’s shoulders. Just as Jack was obviously avoiding trigger areas, Phil’s arm placement spoke of habitual self-policing. “You’re right, y’know. About it being exhausting. It _is._ I meant it when I said it gets easier but it’s never easy. I’ve had to be strong for him for _years_ now and I don’t regret it, not one bit, because it’s for _him_ but it’s just _so hard._ I know he notices the weight it puts on me and he tries to help but I can’t just burden him with my own problems. He has so many of his own.” Phil sniffled but swiped away his tears. “I’m happy for you. I’m happy you found him alive, that he wasn’t another Hannah. No matter how hard it gets, you realize… you realize it’s _worth it._ It’s _worth_ the trouble and exhausted reserves when the alternative’s a body.”

Phil gave a soft, weak little chuckle. “Sorry, sorry. I _really_ didn’t mean to just start blubbering all of a sudden I just… haven’t really talked to anyone extensively about this, aside from my therapist.”

 _“_ No, it's okay, I really do get it.” Jack squeezed Phil a little tighter. “It's...before, when he was still in that room, when I saw what they were doing to him...I did want him to die. Just so it could end for him. But as soon as they dumped him, as soon as I got him back…” He shook his head. “Mark is so incredibly strong and amazing. He deserves this chance to live, to get better, and I'd do anything, _anything_ to give it to him.”

Jack took a deep breath, resting his chin on Phil's shoulder. They were closer to the same height sitting down. “Mark...He wants me to let him know when I'm breaking down. He wants me to show him when I'm weak, and I just...He wants to know, and I get why, but I can't. I just can't give him extra trauma to worry about.” Next to Mark and Dan, Jack and Phil's trauma was nearly non-existent. Jack would never say he _wasn't_ mentally scarred and battling with his own demons, but it never felt right to air them around Mark. It was safer with Phil, who fought the same ones, was _still_ fighting them.

“You...you've been there to listen whenever I'd reach out,” Jack said quietly. “I...I can be there for you too. Just like how Dan and Mark can support each other. So can we.”

Phil nodded quietly from where his face rested closely alongside Jack’s. There was nothing more than a platonic tenderness and mutual support in their embrace. Both men understood each other’s boundaries and respected them, respected the feelings of the other two still sitting outside. Phil squeezed Jack’s shoulders. “I didn’t… for so long, I didn’t have anyone that really understood. They wouldn’t talk to me about it. They didn’t _know._ When we started messaging each other, I was beyond considering maybe we could…. I thought I was okay. I thought all I needed to do was help you, but damn, was I ever wrong. I’m starting to think Dan was being a little sneak and bringing _us_ together on purpose.”

“You're really lucky to have him. He's really lucky to have you. Mark…” Jack sighed. “I like to think I'm helping more than I'm hurting.”

Phil finally pulled back from the hug so he could reach to set his mug on the coffee table. Then he grabbed at Jack’s shoulders with a light, reassuring squeeze. He met Jack’s eyes and mustered up a smile. “You _are,_ Jack. You _are_ helping him. Did you see him earlier, when he came to greet us? Tell me that’s the same man they dropped off for you to find months ago.” His smile gained a bit more strength. “You _can’t._ And that, alone, is proof that you’ve been doing more help than harm. Trust me.”

“I probably am...but I also can trigger some of his worst attacks. Or I say the wrong thing, phrase it badly...how do you do it? Keep pushing through when you fucked up? Especially you, you didn't have _anyone_ who had done it before you. How did you not give up and think he'd be better off without you?”

Mark really had come a long way from the man wrapped in a tarp and thrown against a dumpster. He was stronger now, in every way. He smiled more, laughed more, _touched_ more. He was still a _very_ long way from the man he had been at PAX South, but he was closer than he had been a hundred days ago.

Phil patted Jack’s shoulders and sat back, though he didn’t put more distance between them. His smile took on a bittersweet edge. “I still trigger Dan. I’ll get caught up in a moment and it’ll slip my mind, or we’ll find out something new we hadn’t encountered before. It’s… a process. A never ending one, really. It was hard, at first. I’d have these stretches of time where I’d doubt myself, my ability to help him, if he’d be better off with his parents or a professional…. That first day, when he woke up and couldn’t even look at my face without screaming…” Phil choked up again. He clutched a little at his shirt. “...y’know those masks we used to sell on our website? Our faces?”

Jack nodded slowly. He had checked out a lot of YouTubers’ merch shops when trying to get his own set up. Dan and Phil had a decidedly eclectic mix of products, including those face masks, which had even been in some of their videos. He hadn’t checked lately, hadn’t realized they were no longer being sold, but it made sense to retire products after a long stretch (and if anyone had a long stretch, it would be Dan and Phil). “Yeah? What about them?”

Phil closed his eyes. “...they’re creative, y’know. Those assholes that keep kidnapping people. You saw how they got stuff to break down and manipulate Mark. I can’t speak for the other two, but… I know for a fact Mark’s not the first they used that tactic on. Dan… God, it’s fucking _awful,_ they all bought _my_ mask and they’d keep them on _all the time._ Every time they went in that room to torture him, they’d be wearing my face. I had no idea. I couldn’t get it when Dan would freak out at seeing me- not until he broke down and _told_ me. It was one of the worst moments of my life.”

“ _Oh my god…_ ” The pure horror on Jack’s face was not exaggerated in the slightest. Phil’s own face, they had used _Phil’s face_ to break Dan down… how many times did Mark turn to him, stared at him, needed to see Jack’s face to calm down and trust that he was safe? How many times did Mark’s eyes lock on Jack’s blue eyes, his green hair? Jack couldn’t even imagine trying to wrestle Mark back to sanity without that physical safety net.

Phil chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah. That was about my reaction; tenfold.” He took a few deep breaths and opened his eyes to look at Jack. “The first few days, I only visited his bedside when I knew he was asleep. I’d leave before he woke up. After that, when he started having trouble recovering because of how badly he wanted to see me, I started covering up. Hat, scarf, the works. Gradually, we sorted out the details. Stop using contacts; wear my glasses. Part my hair different. Talk… much as I could. _Constantly._ So he knew it was me.” He combed a few fingers through his reversed fringe.

“But no matter what, no matter _how_ many times he was triggered just from the sight of me… we didn’t give up. He never let me pull away for long, and I did my best to make him know he wasn’t stuck in that room anymore. That he was safe, and _I_ was safe. We cared about each other too much to just quit.” Phil’s eyes gained an edge. “ _No one understood because I was the one that held him when they gave him back._ I wasn’t one of the strangers gawking at some mutilated body or a paramedic just trying to keep him together. His family couldn’t see the aftermath until at least a day later. None of them saw. None of them understood. And no one’s name was on that website but _ours._ You can’t understand the kind of weight that sits on you. Not unless you’ve been on there too. It ties you together, to the _trauma,_ forever. Even if you try to avoid it.”

 _I was the one that held him._ Jack barely even blinked as he held Phil’s gaze, understanding exactly what Phil meant. They rarely brought up that first night, but it was seared into Jack’s mind, the cool rain, Mark’s broken fingers clutching at him, each wheezing breath pressed against his shoulder, the side of his neck, the feel of Mark’s frail body in his arms. When Jack’s nightmares didn’t feature the room, they featured that night and Mark’s corpse. They really were tied together for the rest of their lives. Even if there wasn’t love between them, even if Mark hadn’t stayed in Ireland for so long, this one incident would _always_ bond them.

Phil sat back with another deep breath. “But most of all, I stayed because _I love him,_ Jack. It doesn’t matter what label you slap on there. Love is love and I wasn’t going to stand by and watch him work through it on his own. They dragged us into the mess together and I was going to help see him out of it. No matter how many bumps ended up in the road.” He leaned in again; hands pressed to his knees as his voice lowered in volume. “Because of the way those bastards work, no one can be close to Mark’s level but _you,_ Jack. Not a therapist. Not his family. _You._ It’s an enormous burden, yeah, but I’d shoulder it again if it meant seeing Dan smile. I have the feeling you would too, for Mark.”

Jack finally closed his eyes when Phil mentioned Dan’s smile, taking a shaky breath. “The first time Mark woke up, in hospital, he...he was so drugged up, he didn’t remember _anything_. He was loopy and giddy and cracking bad jokes and I just...I knew he was still in there. That they hadn’t destroyed him. I knew that wasn’t the Mark I’d get back when his meds were lowered, but just that he was still there… I had to support him. I _had_ to. I had to try to get that Mark back, or at least to mostly come out of the shell those monsters forced him to build. I just...every time he smiles, _really_ smiles, and not just because he thinks I want to see a smile, it feels like a win. Every time he laughs. I…” _I love him. I do. So much._

Phil nodded and cracked a smile. “You do it for him, and you'd do it again. Bring him back from the brink where they pushed him and let him know it's okay to smile again.”

“You…” Jack glanced at Phil again, then down at his tea, his cheeks tinged pink before he even asked the question. “You keep saying you _love_ Dan… do you… do you mean as a friend? Or as…?” As something more. As a lover. Phan was _the_ ship of the internet, but Dan and Phil had always insisted they were just best friends and housemates, even with separate rooms.

Of course, that was what Mark and Jack insisted too, with their technically separate rooms, of which Mark’s was never used.

Maybe, if Phil and Dan _were_ romantically involved, Phil could help with whatever mess Jack and Mark had found themselves in? Jack hated floundering through this with Mark, having moments where he almost, _almost_ felt like Mark loved him back, and having no idea where to go or what to say or do.

Phil’s pale face flushed, and he sat back to cross arms over his chest defensively, but then he loosened up after a moment. He seemed to consider his options for several long moments; staring Jack down as if judging whether he was trustworthy.

Eventually, Phil sighed. “I know you probably know better from experience but, you _can't tell anyone._ All right? Dan and I… we were together even before the Ship Sinker. We'd been dating for a while, actually. When he came back, I wasn't… I wasn't sure if we should pick it up again. Because of the trauma he suffered. I didn't want him to feel like he was obligated to set his emotions aside just for me. But…” Phil’s smile returned with fond affection seeping into his eyes, his mind clearly falling back to Dan. “...he wouldn't let me go. Insisted we keep dating; just take it slow and careful. We had to re-learn a lot of things, but… yeah. Yeah, I love him as more than just a friend. I think I always have.”

“Mark and I…” Jack hesitated, glancing toward the back garden, before he slumped even further. “I have _no fucking idea_ what we are. We weren't together. Before. At all. We just played up Septiplier for the communities, but it wasn't...It didn't mean anything. At least not on his part. And now…”

Jack fidgeted with his mug, knowing he wasn't hiding _anything_ from Phil's pale eyes. “I don't know. We're...really close. I've seen more of him than he ever wanted to share, I'm sure, and not just from the pictures. He...sleeping alone triggers him, so we share a bed. Obviously, _you_ can't tell anyone that. It's not...It's _just_ sleeping in the same bed, but I'm clingy, and even though he wakes up first most days, he tends to stick around and just...cuddle. And when we talk, sometimes things get… yeah. I just...I don't know. I _don't_. And I don't know what to do.”

It was strange, finally saying all of this out loud, confessing his love to someone he wasn't afraid would try to kick his ass for it. Jack still felt squirmy inside, like he was doing something wrong, but if _anyone_ could help him, it would be Phil. “I just...I've crushed on him longer than I've known him. And the _last_ thing I want to do is make things worse. But I don't know if loving him _would_ make things worse, or if...If it could help. If there was any chance of him _wanting_ me to love him.”

“Woah. Hold on a minute. You mean you're not actually… huh. Really. Wow.” Phil blinked a bit at Jack; dumbstruck. He scratched at his hair. “Dan and I could've sworn when we watched the birthday vlog Mark put up that you two were… well, never mind.” Phil shook his head. “Been crushing on him since before you knew him, huh? Dan was the same with me. Took him forever to admit it, the loser.”

Phil sent a beaming smile Jack’s way. “Okay, okay, sorry. But that sounds really adorable, just saying. Hmm…” He leaned on an elbow against his knee and rubbed lightly at his chin in thought. “Well, it does sound like you're either dealing with some deep platonic stuff or the real deal. The fact things get… ‘yeah’-” He specifically used air quotes. “-between you when you talk sometimes is a pretty big indicator though. There's an awkwardness and discomfort for a reason. And it's not because of you, or him. Since you've been living together fine for months now. I dunno, Jack, sounds like the odds are leaning in your favor here. But…

“You'll never really know unless you confront it. Ask him about how he feels. If you just dance around your feelings nothing’s ever gonna get solved. Things will always be awkward and weird between the two of you. It doesn't hurt to ask, y’know. You're not forcing him into anything. For all we know… _Mark_ could think there's no chance of _you_ returning _his_ affections. Dan and I came together and _stayed together_ because we could talk about our feelings. We kept communicating. It's important.”

Jack went bright red when Phil said the same thing Tom had: based on that birthday vlog, it was easy to mistake them for a couple. He attempted to hide his flusteredness with a sip of tea, but that probably didn't hide anything from Phil. “Yeah, we, uh, yeah…”

Real articulate. Real word-good. Jack squeezed his eyes shut so he didn't have to see Phil's smile. Not that it was a _mean_ smile. It was just…

Yeah.

“You're cute.” The grin Phil wore showed it was nothing more than friendly teasing, though. He pushed himself back to stretch out a bit and let loose another loud hum of consideration

Phil’s quip did nothing for Jack’s blush. Jack sighed and slumped forward in his seat. “If Mark weren't so horrifically traumatized, this would be easier. But I don't...I don't want to set him off. I mean, the whole time he was in that room, they were...They were prepping him for _me_. Kept saying how much better it would be if I was the one fucking him, or whatever, and I just...I don't want him to think that's what I want.” It was part of it, but not anywhere near a main part of Jack's love for Mark. If he never had sex with Mark, he'd still be happy with his life. He was just less certain he'd stay happy if he never kissed Mark. “I don't want him to feel even the slightest bit unsafe or insecure here. With me. This is literally _all he has_ right now.”

“That's what I told Dan. When we brought up the issue of our relationship. I mean, they wore my face, for God’s sake. How could Dan want to date someone he can't even look at without getting nervous?? It hurt, to think I might lose the ability to show him how much I loved him. Because I knew even if we broke up, I still would. I didn't know if he could feel the same after everything he went through…” Phil looked up at the ceiling. “He wouldn't let me go. He insisted he wanted to keep trying to make things work. That he still loved me, because it wasn't _me_ that did those things to him. It was just monsters wearing my face. Every time he panicked or broke down I gave him the option to just quit. And every time, he refused. It was… inspiring, honestly. I've never felt so loved….”

It was Phil’s turn to blush a bit at the personal admission. His gaze dropped and he coughed awkwardly into his fingers. “But I mean. Your situation’s different. You two weren't already a couple. And they didn't _use_ you to torment him, they sort of… tortured him in your name? Wow, these guys are just messed up.” He puffed out a breath and looked back to Jack. “But you don't feel the way they said you do. And Mark must have an idea of that being the case, or he wouldn't be here with you. I… wish I could give you more advice on how best to go about it besides being as clear about your intentions as possible, but… I've never been in this situation. I'm sorry. Maybe Dan is talking to Mark about the same thing?”

Jack was grateful Phil started talking about Dan. It gave him some time to try to calm down. “I just..I wish I knew what Mark wanted without having to let him know what I wanted. So that if he wasn't interested, he wouldn't ever need to know, but if he was...I could tell him without worrying about making things awkward.”

If Dan was bringing this up with Mark, maybe he could…

No. no, that wouldn't be fair or right. Jack rapped his knuckles against his mug. “Mark won’t say anything first. He's too hurt to risk it. I'd _have_ to. But _I_ don't want to risk it. I wish I could just save my life like I could save a game, so I could reload if it doesn't work out.”

Phil’s smile turned a bit sad. “If we could do that, Jack, we probably wouldn't even be sitting here having this conversation.” Because they could reload and save Mark- save _Dan-_ and put the Ship Sinker behind bars before he even had a chance to become notorious. “But life's not that easy or simple. And neither is love. I know I probably sound like a Lifetime movie over here or something, but it's true. Life and love are all about taking risks. ‘Cause if you don't, you'll miss out on opportunities you didn't even know you had. Plus, Mark might be oblivious now, but he’ll realize eventually Jack. Everyone does. Would you rather he figure it out himself, make assumptions and possibly get the wrong idea? The one you were trying to avoid in the first place? Or do you want to confess, and be right there ready to spell it all out for him; better or worse? I can't decide that for you. But personally, I'd rather be in control than caught off-guard.”

“Yeah, I know…” Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I...we’ve almost talked about it a handful of times. I guess...I guess one of those times, we’ll actually have to go through with it.” He glanced sideways at Phil, almost daring to look hopeful. “You really thought we were together? From the birthday vlog? Because that’s what Mark’s brother said too…”

One time could be a mistake. Twice? (Well, two-millionth, if you counted all the Septiplier shippers from the comments.) Maybe...maybe Mark actually really did mean something whenever he went off on how attractive Jack was?

Phil laughed, then quickly stopped with a slight wince. “Sorry, sorry, that was rude. Ehm.” He guiltily cleared his throat. “Well… I mean, yeah. Dan saw it too. I mean, not counting the obvious stuff you threw out there on purpose. Just the way the two of you interacted. How you spoke to and looked at each other. You could see Mark’s brotherly affection for Thomas, easy. And something like parental love towards Chica. But when he’d give _you_ his attention, it wasn’t the kind of look someone gives their best friend. There was more to it. And you, well… gosh, Jack, you’re really obvious, I’m sorry. Dan and I almost felt bad. I don’t really get how Mark hasn’t seen it yet.”

“I know I'm hardly trying to hide it anymore,” Jack said quietly, staring at his tea as if it held answers to the hardest questions in life. “ _I_ don't get how Mark hasn't seen it. Unless he's willfully ignoring it. Tom said he's just that thick, but I don't know. But if you and Dan both thought _he_ was being obvious…”

Maybe. _Maybe._ Maybe Mark Fischbach, Markiplier, might actually like him back. _Love_ him back.

“I just...I don't want anything between us to be _because_ of this trauma. Like you...you knew Dan loved you before. But Mark never...Not before. And after, his world has shrunk down to _me_ , and unlike his time in that room, his world, me, is actually being good to him. I don't want that gratitude to be mistaken for anything more…”

“Maybe that part of his brain is still muddled from the room. Maybe he does notice the signs but refuses to see them for what they are. He could think it's his trauma playing tricks on him. Or maybe he doesn't want to assume anything. He could think if he addresses what he sees it'll backfire. Just like you. _He_ might even be scared you'll tell him it's that Stockholm thing. If Mark is anything like Dan was- is- it takes a long time for him to accept his feelings are validated. That everything he feels isn't necessarily altered or twisted by what happened.”

Phil grabbed up his tea again and took a sip; immediately grimaced. “Urk. It's cold- nasty.” He shook his head and set the mug aside again. “How do you know he didn't harbor any feelings before? I know, the Septiplier thing was a joke. But maybe there was something there under all the teasing. How can you know for sure? Dan had no idea I was crushing on him until I confessed… he was so stunned, it was adorable.”

“Mark teased _all_ his ships,” Jack said, shaking his head. “He didn’t do anything differently with me than he did with Yamimash when Markimash was the big one.”

It made sense that _Mark_ might be worried about reading the signs wrong. Why hadn't Jack thought of it that way before? _It's not the trauma speaking,_ Mark had said, when they were talking about sharing a bed. Mark _wanted_ to sleep beside him. Maybe… “Maybe…”

Maybe they had a lot to talk about, next time they worked up their courage.

Jack held out his hand for Phil’s mug. “Want to go check on them? I can take care of these, or put the kettle on again. Think they’ll need some tea?” Mark almost certainly would. Even if Dan didn't bring up the potential for a relationship, undoubtedly they were talking about _that room_. It was going to take a lot to settle Mark after that, and if Dan was anything like him, he'd probably be curling up in Phil’s arms tonight to keep nightmares at bay.

Phil smiled and passed Jack his now long cold tea. “Yeah, I think they're both gonna want something nice, hot and soothing when they're done. Then we can all just relax and chat for a while before Dan and I shove off.” He stood and gave a little stretch before clapping Jack on the shoulder. The gesture and his expression both conveyed a friendly support. “Just remember what I said about communicating, all right? And that applies to me and Dan too. Message us any time you need anything. I'll… try to do the same. I hadn't realized how much I still needed that talk, so… thanks, Jack.”

“Anytime,” Jack assured Phil. “Those bastards might have linked each pairing together, but they also linked all of us together.” They were the only people in the world to _understand._ Jack might need to try to reach out to Tyler. He didn't really know the blond YouTuber...but they were survivors together. Same with Grace. He looked up at Phil, feeling better for the talk, feeling like a weight had dropped from his back. “ _Thank you_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	37. I'm sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was posted on April 1. We replied with emoticons until the next regular update. I'm leaving it here for the memories.

Guys, I'm really sorry. This story has become a monster spiraling way out of hand. The update schedule has been insane, and the plot has veered off down a weird path requiring a complete rewrite where Jack is the one taken and he's still with Signe but it's still Septiplier and...

And I'm sorry. I can't keep this going. I can't redo it all. I'm stuck, and I see no escape, so...looks like I'm abandoning Kintsugi after all.

I'm sorry.


	38. Night 174: The Talk - Take 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack tries _again_ to confess to Mark and only triggers one bout of panic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We certainly can't pull anything over on you!
> 
> As some of you remembered, this story IS complete, and so even if one of us lost interest, we'd still be able to finish posting it.
> 
> The "became a monster...spiraling out of hand...requires a rewrite..." bit... Well... ~pushes unedited AU docs under the bed~ I will neither confirm nor deny their existence!
> 
> In all honesty, though, my life has taken a pretty severe dip at the moment. It involves an egomaniac, a Hungarian stripper, a tiny Chinese man, and getting fired for caring about my job too much. Oh, and I have managed to contract pneumonia myself. Fun times. Your comments really do bring a smile to my face during this rough patch. I know I'll land on my feet soon, but until then...I love you guys. <3
> 
> For all of you who left a comment on the previous "update," I will certainly respond to each of you with more than just an emoticon. In the meantime, I believe this is the chapter you've all been waiting for...

Dan and Phil stayed for dinner (glamorous Chinese take-away), and Jack escorted them back to the train station to catch the last train to Dublin. Dan gave Mark a hug before he left, to Jack’s surprise, but Phil’s arms wrapping around him were less surprising. Dan shook his hand and told him to keep taking good care of Mark, and then the two British YouTubers boarded the train.

By the time Jack got back home, Mark had cleaned up dinner and gotten ready for bed. Jack grabbed his pyjamas and went to change in the bathroom, mulling over his conversation with Phil. _You’ll never know unless you confront it._ Phil was right. Jack really did need to just _talk_ to Mark. Ask him about his feelings. Admit...admit to his own. Jack cringed, giving himself a hug. _Just do it. Like ripping off a bandage. Everything will get better once it’s out there._

Before Jack could psych himself out, he gathered his dirty clothes up and went back to the bedroom. Mark was in bed, still awake, watching Jack as he dumped his clothes in the hamper and approached the bed. He sat on the edge, about to swing his legs up, but then he stopped. _Now. We should talk now. I can’t sleep on it… and I probably shouldn’t be lying in bed with him._

Mark frowned in confusion, but then he sat up again, looking expectantly at Jack.

It really wasn't fair to Mark to keep this from him. It really, really wasn’t. Mark knew he enjoyed sharing a bed, but he didn’t know _why._ Jack bit his lip, then looked over his shoulder at his bedmate. "Are you...uh...Are you really tired?"

"No..." Mark drew a breath. "Jack... Sean, I..."

"We should probably..." Jack was fidgeting with the drawstring on his pants, then realized that was probably not the best area for his hands to be for this conversation. He forced them away, drawing his legs up under him instead. "We should probably...talk. About...stuff. Phil...helped a lot."

Mark toyed with the duvet. "We should. Dan... helped me too. About a lot of things. Stuff we... probably should've addressed a lot sooner, honestly." He paused, his ears going pink."...I'm sorry. Sorry I kept putting this off; derailing every chance we got I just... I was scared." Mark had to swallow a lot of his newly regained pride to admit that and his ears went a little pink.

Jack took a deep breath and closed his eyes, still sitting on the edge of the bed, back to Mark. "I...I'm scared too, Mark. I'm scared that saying this stuff...won't help anything. Will make things worse. Make you feel uncomfortable, and I... No matter what, Mark," Jack twisted around to face his friend, his expression as serious as he could make it. This was _important_ , " _no matter what,_ you _are_ safe here. I'd never, _never_ do anything to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. I'd never ask you for anything you weren't willing to give. Okay? I...your sense of security here is the absolute most important thing right now."

Mark stared Jack full in the face. "I don't want to ruin what we have. But I'm pretty sure Phil told you what Dan told me, and they were right. We can't let this linger between us or it'll drive us apart anyway."  
  
After a pause, Mark tentatively scooted a bit closer to Jack on the bed. His gaze had dropped to his lap again. "I'm uncomfortable now, Jack. Holding all this in and trying to pretend nothing's changed. I can't sit and talk with you anymore without hyper analyzing everything- including myself. It's driving me crazy. I know I'm safe here; safe with you. Always safe with you... You have more of my trust than anyone right now, Jack, believe me. I know you wouldn't hurt me on purpose." He looked back to Jack with a soft, open, vulnerable expression and extended his hand; palm up and outstretched invitingly.  
  
"You are my security, Jack. Even if we moved, it'd be okay, because the house is only part of my security because you live here with me. You're the core of it, Jack. You have been since the hospital, and I don't know what I would have done without you... Please come over here. I want to touch you; it'll help my nerves. Please."

Jack moved as soon as Mark asked him to, turning to face Mark fully. His hand slipped into Mark's like it belonged there, fingers lacing together automatically. He looked down at their joined hands, the interplay of white and gold skin, the scars on Mark's crooked fingers, the reddened knuckles of his own. Mark squeezed his fingers.  
  
"I love you," Jack whispered, still staring at their hands. "Not...Not as a friend. Not for a while now. I...I'm sorry."

Mark was immediately shaking his head. "Don't be sorry. Don't ever be sorry for that, Jack. I..." He took a breath. "...I love you too. I do. Not as a friend. Or even a best friend, or a roommate. And no, as much as I appreciate all the kindness you've showed me, that's not why I love you. I love you because you're you, and I think I have for a long time now without completely understanding it. I'm sorry."

Jack looked up sharply at Mark's confession, his breath stuttering in surprise. For all that Tom and Phil said that Mark obviously loved him too, Jack had never really believed it. Not _really_. Mark was straight. Not interested. _Especially_ not interested in another guy after...  
  
But that wasn't what Mark was saying. Wasn't what the squeeze to his hand or the little smile playing on Mark's face was confirming. Jack swallowed thickly and squeezed Mark's hand back. "You... you do?"

Mark’s grip on Jack’s hand was tight. "I do. Really, I do. I'm not just saying it to make you happy, I promise. I... Dan helped me sort things out today. He gave me a perspective I didn't know I needed to finally stop denying how I felt... How you've felt about me... I'm sorry, Jack, sorry it took me so long." 

“Stop…” Jack sidled closer to Mark, lifting his free hand and pressing a finger to Mark’s mouth. “Shh. Stop saying you’re sorry. I don’t… Mark…” Mark blinked up at Jack. He went dead still when Jack touched his lips. 

Mark didn’t need to apologize for anything. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He was just trying to recover, trying to put his life back in order after the intense trauma he’d suffered through. “You don’t have to…” Jack’s finger traced along the curve of Mark’s smile before he realized just _what_ he was doing, and he snatched his hand back. “Sorry.” _Stupid..._ Touching Mark’s face was _not_ okay. Even if Mark did love him. Even if Mark’s smile was as fake as American cheese.

“You don’t _look_ like you’re not just saying it…” There was something off to Mark’s expression, a shadow that Jack hated he was so familiar with seeing. It wasn’t the usual tinge of darkness in Mark’s face, ever since he got out of that room. No, this was a colder sort of self-loathing that wasn’t constant, but it did crop up far too often. Mark was entertaining some dark thoughts, which completely contrasted against the words he was trying to say.

“What do you really mean?”

A tense, agonized breath shuddered out of Mark and he pulled away from Jack. He retracted his hand and curled in on himself, hiding his mouth behind his knees but keeping his wary eyes on Jack.

“...shit.” Mark was triggered. Mark was _triggered_ , and those dark eyes were clouded with the past, and his collar was around Chica’s neck in her crate in the other room, and _Jack had triggered him_.

 _Calm down. Deep breaths._ Mark was still calm(ish). He wasn’t hiding completely. He was still watching Jack, wary, like an injured animal. Jack scooted back from Mark, giving him space. “I’m sorry, Mark,” he said, setting his hands palm-up in front of him, so Mark could see them, see that Jack wasn’t about to hit him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you like that. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking, Mark. Can… are you still with me? Do you want me to get Chica? Or even just Chica Junior? She’s right there on the nightstand, Mark. You can hug her. I’m sure she’ll love the love.”

Mark twitched. His eyes flicked down to Jack’s hands and then back to his face. Way to fucking go. Mark actually said those words Jack had wanted him to say for literal _years_ , and Jack went and triggered at least bad memories, if not a full blown panic attack. _This_ was why he didn’t say anything!

“Mark, remember, you’re safe here. Above everything else, you are safe. You’re at home, you’re in your bed, you’re _safe,_ Mark. I promise. You’re safe.”

Mark slowly uncurled an arm from around his legs and reached blindly off to the side; groping at the space above the nightstand. He never once took his eyes off Jack. Eventually, his fingers found Chica Junior and he snatched her into the safety between his chest and knees. Mark released another shaky breath. His mouth opened and closed once, twice; gaping like a fish where it was still hidden behind Chica Junior’s golden fur. At first he just gave a hoarse squeak, but then, after about ten seconds, he spoke actual words. “...I… I can talk…? I can. Talk. I can talk… okay. Okay, okay.” He took another deep breath. “I… sorry, I just… when you…. I freaked out. I’m sorry. I just keep ruining everything I’m absolutely terrible _why do you keep loving me?_ ”

And telling Mark to be quiet was yet another addition to the list of things to never, ever do. Jack winced slightly at Mark’s disbelieving questions. Apparently shushing him was something _they_ had done. Jack couldn’t imagine being shushed to the point where he was scared of talking.

He didn’t have to imagine it, though. He had to focus on Mark, on what Mark was saying. “No, Mark, _I’m_ sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you there, I know it’s not allowed. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I’m sorry.”

How could Jack possibly explain to Mark that he didn’t love him _despite_ his flaws, but rather _because_ of them? Sort of? “Mark, I’ve never… I’ve had a crush on you _forever_ , but I never considered it _love_ until… until these past few months. Not...not-platonic love, at least. I, you… _look_ at yourself, Mark! Look what you just did! You were triggered, but you didn’t… you didn’t have a full-blown attack, you didn’t really need me to talk you out of it, you were able to get Chica Junior on your own and I haven’t even held your hand! You get better every day, Mark, stronger and more sure of yourself again, and… and I admire that so much. I’m so fucking proud of you every time you do something like that, and I just… how can I _not_ keep loving you? You’re _amazing_.”

Mark’s gaze shifted off to the side, and then eventually back to Jack with confusion and longing in his dark eyes. “I… I forgive you, Jack…. Of course I do. I know it was an accident, I…. I… Jack, please, don’t get the wrong idea from what I’ve been saying and doing. _Please._ I meant it when I said I loved you. I’ve never been… _good,_ at talking about my feelings. You know that. I spout really dumb crap and start getting introspective and sulky and stupid and I just… I _want_ you to believe me. I don’t want you to think I don’t feel as strongly as you do. The only reason I’m so upset on the inside is because every time we try to fucking do this, I mess it up. _Every time._ Just look at right now! And _no,_ don’t even say you were the cause, Jack. I was fucking it up waaaay before you accidentally triggered me and _you know it._ I… I feel like…. When you were surprised, that I actually returned your feelings, I…. I thought… what kind of signals have I been giving him? How have I been treating him if it’s so hard to believe I might… that I could _love him?_ ”

“No, Mark, no, that’s not…” Jack shook his head, curling his fingers up. “Mark, I wasn’t surprised because you were giving off the wrong signals. I just… Phil told me you were being just as obvious as I was, and… and so did Tom, actually, and it’s not like I was _oblivious,_ I just…” Jack drew his arms into his lap, dipping his head and glancing off to the side.

“Mark… when I said I had a crush on you _forever_ , I meant… I meant from as long as I’ve known you were a person. From your very first videos that I saw, taking forever to buffer on a crappy connection in a cabin in the woods. I didn’t even know what you _looked_ like, and I was… having some very confused nights.” Jack could feel his face burning as he admitted this level of adoration for the other man. Talk about pathetic fangirling. “And then we actually _met_ , and…” Jack huffed a little under his breath, frustrated at himself. “And then I knew it was never gonna go away. But it was manageable. It was never ‘oh my god gotta bone him now,’ it was just… I liked being near you. The closer, the better. When you did stupid things, I’d think they were adorable. Sometimes, I’d just… just really want to kiss you. Not even make out, just…”

Like that last night. That last night _before_ , when Mark was snuggling against his side, half-asleep ( _drugged_ , they knew now), being adorable and pouty and Jack had wanted to kiss his cheek and thought he was being daring to wrap his arm around Mark’s shoulders…

Like that last night, when Jack had sent Mark away for his own good, to sleep horizontally in a bed and not have his friend fantasize about kissing him right beside him. Jack pressed his fists into his thighs and squeezed his eyes shut. He fucked up that night. Fucked up _so damn much_ , and Mark paid for it.

Mark stared at Jack a bit wide-eyed over the fluff of Chica Junior tucked up beneath his chin. “Jack….”

“It’s not that I didn’t believe you,” Jack said. “I just… when you’ve wished something that long, and then it happens… it doesn’t matter _how_ believable it is, it just doesn’t feel entirely real. You know?”

Mark he wormed a hand away from Chica Junior to grasp at Jack’s. He closed his fingers around curled knuckles and held on. His face was a storm of conflict but there were streaks of devotion in his eyes as he watched their clasped hands. His words were resolute. “I’m sorry it took me so long to accept how you really felt about me. I’m… I’m an idiot, and I never know where the joke ends, and… and I’ve been pushing aside my own feelings because I didn’t understand them, either.”

Brown eyes lifted to meet blue and Mark drew a steadying breath. “But I know now. For both of us. I know what those feelings are I love you. I might’ve for a very long time now and I’m sorry, Sean. For trying to pretend it wasn’t real.”

Jack opened his eyes and looked up when Mark covered his hand, meeting his dark gaze and being pinned in place by it. God, but he loved Mark’s eyes. They were so warm and loving, even with their shadows. That was why Jack was so scared when Mark panicked, because the warmth drained away and Mark looked so dead.

“Mark…” Jack turned his hand over, slowly unfolding it so he could take Mark’s again. He didn’t move closer, didn’t move to touch Mark in any other way. This was their only point of contact. “Mark, it’s not… it’s not like I was _trying_ to let you know. Quite the opposite, actually. I just wanted to be your friend. I didn’t want to fuck things up between us. Ever.”

“Yeah… yeah, after the last few weeks, I… I get that. Sorta. I just… there’s always those tells in the movies and stuff. And everyone else apparently saw it, so… I guess I just feel a little bit dumb.” He hid a smile in Chica Junior’s fur. “You didn’t fuck things up between us.” 

Mark was holding Jack’s hand and sitting in his bed and saying _I love you_ and Jack wanted to cry a little. He didn’t. He squeezed Mark’s fingers and looked down at their clasped hands. “I… what do we do now?” _Talk,_ everyone told them. _Tell him how you feel._ Nobody said what came next.

Mark rubbed at the back of Jack’s hand with his thumb. “Well… I mean… whenever people confess to each other in movies or games or books, they… they usually kiss or something. Or their lives are all ‘happily ever after’ and they move in together to be all domestic but… fuck. I think we did the steps out of order.”

Jack laughed a little, twisting their hands so he could lace their fingers together again. That always felt best. “So, let’s see. Meet, fall in love, confess, kiss, move in together, have babies? We… fell in love, at least I did, then met, moved in together, had babies--the tatertots--and confessed? I guess kiss is the only thing we _haven’t_ done… fuck, Mark, are you supposed to kiss before or after you start sleeping together?”

Because Mark had been sleeping in Jack’s bed for _weeks_. They definitely threw the normal rules out the window with this relationship.

“Oh my God.” Mark released Chica Junior fully so he could bury his face in his free hand. “We’re a mess. An absolute clusterfuck of a romance right here. I don’t think they could write fanfiction of us this muddled up, Jack.” There was a bemused giddiness in his tone, and he was almost certainly smiling behind his fingers.

All jokes aside… _kiss_. Jack wanted to kiss Mark. Of course he did. But the idea of kissing him felt weird right now, when they were both still nervous and tense. “Do you… uh… do you want to? Kiss?”

Mark sighed and let his hand slide down to reveal his eyes again. His fingers rested over his lips, and something in his eyes went dark. “No.” It firm and abrupt. Mark winced and dropped his hand. “I mean, no. I don’t… I don’t think I could do that, right now. Not yet. Maybe… maybe we can try later? I just…” He sighed again. “Sorry….”

“No, hey, it’s okay.” Jack shook his head and squeezed Mark’s hand again. “I told you at the start. Your comfort comes first. And I did...sorta screw that up already.” He sighed and gave Mark a lopsided smile. “Want to try… just sleeping? It’s been a long day.”

Mark looked to Jack with a bit of a pout. He squeezed at Jack’s hand with a soft snort. “You mean cuddling together in bed but without all the forced platonic pretenses?”

“You know, for someone who had no idea what was going on, you sure are a cuddly bastard,” Jack retorted. “‘Gee, Mark, maybe we should put up a wall so I don’t cuddle you?’ ‘No way, cuddles!’” He shook his head, rolling his eyes fondly. “We don’t have to start cuddling if you don’t want to,” he said with more seriousness. “Or… we could if you do. Your call how platonic we’re gonna pretend to be.”

Mark’s smile turned sheepish and he shrugged. “Hey, c’mon, you _knew_ I was a cuddly person. I’m a gentle soul! Plus you’re warm.” He looked down at the covers for a few moments. “Let’s just… lay down, and see where things go. Sound good?” 

Jack nodded, reluctantly pulling his hand away from Mark’s so he could crawl up the bed beside him. He pulled the duvet over his legs and laid down on his pillow, but this time, on his side facing Mark. Mark loved him. Mark _loved_ him. _Now_ Jack felt a smile he couldn’t stop, stupid and sappy and… and Mark loved him. “I love you,” he whispered. It felt right to say it now. He _could_ say it now.

Mark was quick to wiggle back under the covers. He carefully set Chica Junior on his other side and rolled over to look at Jack. “I love you. Night, Jack.”

Jack resisted the urge to snuggle up against Mark, or even reach out for his hand. Mark loved him. That didn’t give him carte blanche. He just settled on snuggling into his pillow again, not wanting to close his eyes. “Good night, Mark.” If he did, though, if he _did_ close his eyes, he could fall asleep, and in the morning, Mark _would_ be snuggled against him...and Jack wouldn’t have to feel guilty about it. The thought was enough to make him smile a little more, and he forced his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. It _was_ a good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	39. Night 189: The First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets a kiss! For real, this time!

Not much had changed with Mark and Jack's relationship after that night of confessions and cuddling. They woke the next morning tangled up in a jumble of limbs just as they had all the days before, except this time, they could both just _enjoy_ it. They had lain together with giddy, stupid smiles and horrible bedhead, just staring at each other, fingers lightly stroking over backs or arms.

Jack could still remember how unreal the morning had felt, tracing real hearts across Mark’s back and staring into his soft brown eyes before Mark moved closer, dipping his head forward and pressing his lips to Jack’s cheek. Jack’s heart skipped a handful of beats, and he was sure every drop of blood in his body immediately shot to his face. He and Mark had both looked away, but Jack had been grinning so widely it made his lips hurt. _Mark had kissed him_! They were still wrapped up in each other’s arms, and Jack had foregone his artistic endeavours to just hug Mark closer.

The following days rolled along much the same. They still lived together, ate together, played together and slept _together._ They didn’t share any more kisses beyond the occasional peck to a cheek or hand or wrist. Not the mouth, and Jack didn’t kiss anywhere Mark hadn’t already kissed him. Otherwise, the physical aspect of their newfound relationship didn’t go anywhere. They just hugged and cuddled and lived together with a renewed sort of ease. The awkward doubts and confused analyzing weren’t an issue anymore. If they did something, it was out of love. There was nothing to hide and it felt as if some dark shadow had been banished from the cottage. There were entire days where Jack felt at peace, and nights… nights were incredible.

Jack nuzzled in closer to Mark's neck and sighed happily. Sleep-cuddling was the best sort of cuddling, and Mark was the best sort of pillow. He mumbled something inarticulate and squeezed his arm around Mark’s waist. If he nuzzled in a little closer, mm, yes, he could fit a leg between Mark’s and snuggle _even tighter_.

Despite Jack’s cry of ‘Sleep is for the weak!’ and his distaste for how much time was wasted by sleeping, Jack did love to sleep once he actually _was_ asleep. Sleeping had become even better once Mark started joining him in bed, and then it reached a whole new level of awesome when Mark started cuddling up in his arms before they even closed their eyes. Jack _loved_ sleeping with Mark.

Jack did not like waking up. Mark made it a little easier with his cuddles and the occasional morning peck on the cheek, giving Jack something pleasant to wake up to, a _reason_ to come back to consciousness and enjoy what he could feel (and a reason to turn beet red and shift awkwardly beneath the covers until Mark went to let Chica out), but he still didn’t _like_ it.

Despite that, when Mark grew tense in his arms, whining and shifting, Jack stirred. His brain prodded at him to get up, wake up, something was _wrong._ “M’rk…?” He blinked his eyes open slowly. There was a heavy tension in the dim room, and Mark’s breathing was ragged and wet. He was upset, fighting off a panic...and “ _Shit._ ” Jack was wrapped around him like an octopus, with absolutely no respect for personal space, god, he was pressed up tight against Mark’s leg and no _wonder_ Mark was tense. Suddenly, Jack was much more awake.

Jack started to pull back as slowly and carefully as he could, hips and legs first, trying to detangle before Mark tipped over the edge into a full-blown panic attack. “Mark, it’s okay, you’re safe, it’s okay Mark, it’s just-” His words cut off abruptly when a familiar sort of hardness brushed against his thigh and Jack wanted to just _die,_ he fucking got a boner _again_ and… and… that was the wrong place for _his_ erection to bump against his leg, and it was _Mark_ who gave a soft moan at the touch.

Mark clapped both of his hands over his mouth. He flinched hard from Jack’s touch, trying to curl up beneath the blankets.

This was an entirely new situation that Jack had not considered before. His eyes widened, his own breath catching in his throat. _Mark was hard. Mark_ was the one with morning wood. This hadn’t happened once since they started sleeping together. Had it happened before? _Probably not._ Mark had been even more of a mess before. Had it happened outside of bed? Had Mark jerked off in the shower or something? Probably not; Jack knew Mark had a lot of body issues he was still struggling through. Showers were a trial. Just being naked and exposed put Mark on the edge.

 _Calm him down._ That was always step one with a panic attack, no matter what triggered it or why. _Talk to him, reassert reality._ Jack took a deep breath and slid his hand over to touch Mark’s arm, trailing his fingers down the covered muscles. “Mark, it’s okay. It’s just us here, Mark. It’s okay. This is okay. You’re safe, you’re at home, you’re in your bed, _our_ bed. It’s okay, Mark. I’m here. I’m right here. You’re okay.”

Mark’s trembling was getting worse. He whined into his hands, shaking his head. There were stifled murmurs of _“no, no, no”_ and _“not okay, it’s not okay it’s wrong wrong wrong”_ and _“Jack don’t look at me Jack, Jack please don’t look don’t look”_ before Mark gave a rough sob.

“Mark, Mark, it's _okay_. It's okay. It's not wrong. It's good. It's _good._ ” Jack kept touching Mark's arm, rubbing gently as he focused on the other man's whispers. “Mark, I'm not looking. I promise, I'm not looking.”

“It’s not, it’s not, it’s _not,_ J-Jack, it’s not, how c-can you say that…?” Mark rasped. He was practically curled into a ball as he gave his head another shake. “No, no, no, no….”

How the hell was he supposed to get through this? It was ridiculous o'clock in the morning, he was half asleep, and his boyfriend was hard and shaking beside him.

“Mark, it's okay. I'm here. I love you. I'm right here.”

Mark ducked his face fully into his hand, pulling at his hair. “I-I love you, l-love you, Jack… J-Jack, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it just happened I’m so sorry I didn’t want it, I _don’t_ want it please J-Jack I can’t…. I can’t, it’s _wr-wrong,_ I’m… I’m bad. _It’s_ bad. I’m… I’m a….”

“You are _not_ bad,” Jack said firmly. “You are _good_ , Mark, so good. And this is good too. It _is_.” This wasn't a usual panic. Mark didn't seem lost in the room, just lost in his own head. Jack gave Mark's bicep a gentle squeeze before resuming his stroking.

“Mark, you are allowed to...to be hard. To get off. You're _allowed._ It's not wrong, or bad. Was it bad when I was? No. And it's not when you are.” Jack closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Mark...Mark, you should try...you should try to take care of it. To _enjoy_ it, okay? I can...I can go, if you'd like some time. Or...or I can stay, if you need me here. Want me here.”

It broke Jack's heart to see Mark so anxious and upset over such a natural reaction. What the hell did they do to him in that room? (Jack didn't need that answered).

“Whatever you need, Mark. I'm here for you. I love you.”

“I… I’m not… that’s not….” Mark was clearly struggling with the concept. “...I’m allowed? I’m… I’m allowed. I’m _allowed,_ it’s okay, I’m… I’m okay?” He whimpered and pressed at his head instead of pulling at his hair. “Can’t compare, can’t compare, not us, n-not… we’re not….Y-you’re allowed, ‘m not, not without y-your… your….” Mark  shivered and sobbed, turning his head to sink teeth into his pillow, still mumbling.

Oh fuck, this was a whole new barrel of issues they hadn't even begun to touch on. Jack closed his eyes with a grimace, then forced a smile again for Mark. “Mark, shh, it's okay. It's okay. I love you. I… I'm here, Mark. I'm here, I can, I can...I can hold you? I can hug you, Mark. Let me hug you?”

Jack spread his arms open under the duvet, offering Mark an embrace. It was all he _could_ do right now. “I'll keep you safe. I promise, Mark.”

Mark took several deep breaths, then awkwardly rolled over. He whined desperately as he stared at Jack. “Jack… _Jack._ ”

Mark leaned forward and groped around until he snagged a fistful of Jack’s shirt. He used the hold to pull himself just a few inches closer while releasing shaky breaths. Sweat had started to bead lightly on his brow. “J-just… just… careful. S-slow, please, I…. D-don’t look down.”

“I won't, Mark, I won't look. I won't. I promise.” There was too much shame in Mark’s voice for Jack’s liking, too much guilt and self-loathing. Jack folded his arms gently around Mark’s back, hugging him loosely. “I'm right here, Mark, I'm right here with you. Okay? It's just you and me, in our home, in our room, in our bed. You're safe. I have you. You're safe. I promise.”

There was only so much Jack could do physically to help Mark other than hold him and talk to him. He angled his own hips away so Mark didn't accidentally rub up against Jack’s dick (which had stirred traitorously at the first little moan from Mark’s lips). Jack rubbed Mark’s back and met his eyes in the dark room. “You're completely covered. No one can see _anything._ It's okay. I'm right here.” Jack wished he could kiss Mark, at least on the cheek, but he didn't dare try. Not with Mark so tense. “Mark, what do you...what do you need from me? Right now, right in this moment...we can talk about it tomorrow. What do you need _now_?” What had Mark been conditioned to respond to? He had said something about not being allowed to without Jack’s...something. He had been treated like a dog. Was he not allowed to rub one out? But he'd been made to do it in plenty of photo shoots… “Do you…” This wasn't as bad as the collar. It wasn't good, but it was nowhere near the collaring level of disgust for Jack. “Do you need me to say it's okay?”

Mark shivered, but then he breathed a little easier. He panted with pinkened cheeks and glazed brown eyes; hair a dark mess that kept falling into his face. He curled his hand around the bulge in his sweats and whined again. It was a breathless sound pitching up from deep and low in his throat before he pushed his face into the pillow, only letting one eye show. “Th-they said… they said...I-I shouldn’t… shouldn’t be like this, not… not unless it’s okay….” he whispered against the pillow, his breathing _easier_ but still short and quick.

Mark bit at his lip again and curled inwards. The top of his hair bumped at Jack’s chin, and he shuddered in Jack’s arms. “...I can’t. I can’t, not u-unless… unless it’s okay… unless they say it’s okay I can’t. I can’t, I can’t, I _can’t,_ Jack. I know they’re not here _I know_ but they are they’re in my head and I don’t want to hurt, Jack. It hurts. T-tell me it’s not gonna hurt, Jack, _please._ ” His breath hitched with a fresh sob.

Jack closed his eyes, his heart breaking further with every one of Mark’s shuddered words. “It’s okay, Mark,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss against Mark’s hair. “It’s _okay_. I’m saying it’s okay. And it’s not going to hurt. It’s _not_. I promise, it’s not going to hurt. No one is going to hurt you. I’m holding you, right? I won’t _ever_ let someone hurt you again. Not as long as I’m holding you.” He rubbed his hand along Mark’s back, feeling every shudder and sob. “I love you, Mark. So much.”

“I l-love you too….” Mark whispered the words hoarsely into Jack’s neck. He breathed and relaxed.

Thank god they’d actually come out to each other. Jack couldn’t imagine trying to talk Mark through this without that truth open between them. He turned his head to press his cheek against the top of Mark’s, just barely touching. “Please… can you please try to… to touch yourself?” He could feel his face burning red, but he pressed on. “It’s okay, Mark. I promise. I _want_ you to. It will be good. It won’t hurt. I promise.”

“Okay.” Mark nuzzled in a bit closer to Jack’s neck; his chest. “Okay… o-okay, I… I can try….” Mark uncurled just enough to give his hand some freedom beneath the duvet. He gave a little jolt. _“F-fuck….”_

“Good, Mark, that’s _good_.” Jack took a shaky breath as Mark twitched in his arms, gasping against his neck, and oh _fuck_ he was gonna be so hard if they managed to get through this in one piece. “Just like that, yes… but…” He squeezed Mark and rubbed his cheek against Mark’s hair. “...but if you need to stop, that’s okay too. You can say no. At any time, you can say no, you can say stop, you can push me away, and it’s okay. It’s _okay_. I promise. I’ll be here, and I’ll hold you through this, as long as you want me here. But if you need to, _want_ to stop, just say the word. Any word. And we’ll stop. That’s okay too.”

Mark’s hand moved beneath the duvet, and he released another breathy little moan. Mark pressed and rubbed his cheek into Jack’s neck; seeking comfort. “Jack...I can say no. I can… I can push you away. I can stop, any time I want. I don’t… don’t have to do anything. I don’t?” His hand paused.

“That's right, Mark, you can say no. You don't have to.” Jack took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the scent of Mark's hair. He never thought this would happen, getting to just hold Mark and indulge in the scent and feel of the other man. His own dick was so hard in his pants, but he forced his hips to stay angled away from Mark's.

Despite the distance, Jack could feel when Mark stopped. He rubbed his cheek against Mark's hair and kissed his scalp again. “It's okay. You're okay. Do you need to stop?”

“I can say no… I can say no… I can _stop…_ ” Mark muttered the statements over and over again under his breath as he furrowed his brow. His eyes were half-closed. “They’re not allowed… they’re not… Just us. Just you… and me….”

“That’s right, Mark, just you and me, no one else in our bed. No one else.” Jack kept talking, kept touching Mark’s back, stroking, petting, wishing he could feel bare skin beneath his fingers, wishing he could taste Mark’s mouth. He didn’t. No matter how much he wanted to tilt Mark's head up, he didn’t. No matter how much he wanted to let his fingers catch the hem of Mark’s shirt, tugging it up, he didn’t. Mark could only tolerate so much new stimuli at a time. It had taken months before he even allowed this much from Jack. A kiss, wandering hands, these would definitely spoil the mood for Mark. That was the last thing Jack wanted.

Mark sighed. “No… n-no, I just… I wanted to know. I… I had to know it was okay. That I could stop.” He moved his arm again, hissing into Jack’s neck from the fresh stimulation. A groan, deep, throaty and husky, echoed from his chest, and his free hand dropped to clutch at the sheets between them. “Nnnn… f.. Fuck… Jack….”

It was hard for Jack, so hard, as Mark panted against his neck. It wasn’t the only thing hard for him. He shivered as Mark groaned, a jolt of pleasure running straight to his own dick, his fingers pressing a little harder on the next stroke over Mark’s back before he forced himself to loosen up his grip again.

“Good, Mark, good, just like that, you’re doing so well, I’m so proud of you. Good…” Jack had to grit his teeth as Mark moaned his name, fighting the impulsive twitch of his hips, the little voice inside his head begging to roll Mark onto his back and kiss into his mouth, grind against him hard and heavy. Jack had seen Mark aroused before, seen him touched by those bastards, seen him panting and coming, and it didn’t hold a candle to _this._ Jack had known, watching those videos, looking at those photos, that Mark’s pleasure had been entirely coerced, entirely forced. Watching Mark’s arousal then had made Jack wish Mark was about to die. Watching it _now…_

Watching Mark, feeling him melt in Jack’s arms, hearing him groaning Jack’s name in a voice cracking from pleasure...this almost made _Jack_ want to die. In a good way. In the very best way. Jack pressed his hips into the mattress and forced his mouth open again, knowing Mark used his voice as an anchor. “I love you, Mark,” he murmured, his voice sliding slightly deeper from his own arousal. “Keep...keep stroking. Let yourself feel it. Feel how good your body can feel.”

“N.. n-no one else….” Mark shivered and pressed back against Jack’s hand. “Good… good… so good, Jack, so… mnnghh… y-you’re so….” He breathed the words in a rough hush against Jack’s skin, panting heavily.

Jack couldn’t, he _couldn’t_ give in, no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much his dick ached inside his own pants. He pressed his hands against Mark’s back again, letting his fingertips push against the muscle there, as Mark arched into the firmer touch. The duvet shifted with every tug of Mark’s hand, letting Jack know that he was picking up his pace. It was working, it _had_ to be, if the little noises Mark was making were anything to go by. Part of Jack wanted to cry in relief. A much, _much_ larger part wanted to kiss Mark in celebration.

 _You are more than your dick,_ Jack scolded himself. _Keep a lid on it. You can fantasize later._ This was definitely going into Jack’s most treasured memories...and into his spank bank. _Sorry, Mark…_

“Jack… Jack… wanna… wanna k-kiss you…. Want to… want to….”

Mark's tongue flicked against Jack's neck, and Jack couldn't suppress his shiver. His fingers dug into Mark's back for just a moment and his dick jumped in his pants. _Oh god fuck…_ If Mark was going to do _that_ , and then beg for a kiss…

“Mark, _yes_ , please, I...I want to kiss you too. I want to kiss you so much…” Mark's tongue flicked out again and Jack bit his lip, trying to stifle his own groan.

Mark groaned again, then gasped and huffed hot breaths against Jack’s neck. “Jack, Jack, Jack, fuck….” He disentangled his hand from the sheet in favor of clasping it around Jack’s bicep; squeezing tight. “Can’t… c-can’t, can’t because… because I can’t t-take care of you, Jack, I… _hnngh… Jack…._ I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, just wanna… wanna….” Mark’s open mouth hovered over Jack’s neck while he trembled.

“What? You… what?” Jack was having a hard time dragging his brain through the muddle of lust and sleepiness to understand Mark’s pants against his skin. “Mark, I don't...I don't _care,_ Mark, I can take care of myself, just please, Mark, please can I kiss you, please…?”

They hadn't kissed, not _really_. Jack didn't count kisses pressed to cheeks or fingers as true kisses. He wanted to kiss Mark’s lips, to seal their mouths together and _taste_ the other man. He loved that he could hold Mark now, without worrying about giving away his feelings, but he still desperately wanted to kiss him. _Now_ more than ever. Mark was hard and desperate in his arms, rubbing himself toward an orgasm, and he was moaning and gasping against the sensitive skin of Jack’s throat. It was all he could do to keep from rolling onto his side and thrusting against Mark. Not being able to kiss him either was driving him _crazy._

“...o-okay…. Okay, Jack, okay…. Okay….”

Jack opened his eyes as Mark pulled away from his neck, looking down at his boyfriend’s wrecked expression in the dark. They locked eyes for a moment, just a moment, and then Mark was leaning in and Jack’s eyes fell closed again as their mouths met.

It was _perfect_. Mark’s beard rasping against Jack’s was a new sensation, but his lips were warm and wet, his breath hot against Jack’s cheek. Jack’s groan was a voiceless rumble he couldn’t contain, and he clutched at Mark’s back. It was either that or shove a hand in his own pants, where his dick was throbbing and straining against the cotton of his underwear. Somehow, he doubted that would go over very well…

Unless it would? Unless Mark wanted him to? Mark was getting off in front of Jack, after all. Maybe, maybe Mark would want Jack to do the same?

Not without Mark’s permission. Jack wouldn’t touch himself without _Mark’s_ go-ahead. Not in front of Mark, at least. And he wouldn’t deepen the kiss, as much as he wanted to coax Mark open.

He _did_ press harder against Mark’s mouth, turning the kiss from a hesitant brush into a proper kiss. He held Mark tight against his chest, hoping this didn’t trigger anything because right now, it felt too good to stop. If Mark’s deep moan into his mouth said anything, it was that Mark was feeling the same.

Mark’s hand skimmed up Jack’s side, making Jack’s breath stutter, his dick throbbing in the confines of his pants. When Mark’s fingers settled in Jack’s hair, his breath died in his throat. He couldn't even moan his pleasure against Mark's mouth, too busy focusing on not doing something rash.

When Mark pulled away from Jack's lips, he found he could breath again. He forced his eyes open, lifting one hand away from Mark's back to touch his cheek, looking at his desperate expression, the _need_ hazing his dark eyes. Mark had never looked more attractive, and he was _here_ , right here in Jack's arm, his bed, pressed up tight and jerking his fist over his erection.

“Jack… Jack, Jack, I… I n-need… I-I'm going to… _nnnghhh…._ N-need you to.. to… _ahh.._ need your….”

Jack pressed his thumb against Mark's cheekbone. “Keep going, Mark, keep going.” He had to remember how to keep talking, his breath hitching slightly at Mark’s name. “You can...you can let go whenever. Whenever you’re ready, you can cum. There’s nothing to hold you back. You can do this…”

Mark immediately leaned into the touch. “I-I can do this… I can do this… I c-can…” Mark kissed Jack again, their mouths crashing together with no finesse, just desperation. Jack let all the air in his lungs and swallowed Mark’s groan in return, fingers digging into Mark’s back as the other man broke in the best possible way.

Jack clutched at Mark, forgetting to be gentle, forgetting to keep his distance. _Mark was coming in his arms,_ spasming against him as he kissed Jack fiercely, and Jack had to, _had_ to kiss him back, their lips sliding together, Jack licking into Mark’s mouth. He couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t hold himself back, not when he’d wanted to kiss Mark so many thousands of times over the last few months, watching him sleep, watching him cook, watching him murder robots in a game or now shudder his orgasm in Jack’s arms. His hand moved its grip down to Mark’s hips almost instinctually, tugging him closer…

As the duvet shifted and Jack’s hips jerked toward Mark, he remembered what he was doing. _Who_ he was doing it with. And why this was a Very Bad Idea. Jack managed to stop himself just shy of pressing his erection against Mark’s body, trembling from the restraint he needed to hold himself back. He sighed Mark’s name into his mouth, forcing his fingers to unclench from Mark’s hip.

Mark broke the kiss with a wet sound. He sighed, a tired giddiness flooding his face. His fingers curled into Jack’s hair while his thumb ghosted over Jack’s ear. He gave a small, private smile as he stared at Jack’s mouth. “Sean….”

“Mark…” Jack was still shaking from trying to resist that smile, those lips, those _eyes_. He skimmed his hand up Mark’s side and leaned in, brushing his nose against Mark’s cheek and taking one last deep breath before he sat up, slowly untangling himself from Mark, propping a leg up to hide the massive tent in his pants. “Mark, I…” _I love you, that was amazing, you were so good, I really need to cum…_ “I’ll...get something to clean up with, okay?” He didn’t want Mark to think he was running away, but Jack _desperately_ needed to shove his hands down his own pants, and he didn’t think that would go over very well, even with Mark in such an unusual, blissed-out state.

“...okay. Though, it might just be easier if I… changed my pants….”

“I’ll be back.” Jack reached out, brushing his thumb over the corner of Mark’s mouth. He had just been kissing those lips. _God_. This was not what he had expected when he woke up to Mark’s whine. “Five minutes. Or less.”

Probably less.

“Take any longer and it might dry out… eugh….” Mark rumbled deep in his chest. For once, there were no signs of anxiety or apprehension anywhere. His entire body language screamed “satisfied”. Even his voice sounded better; firmer, stronger, more confident. He turned his head, just slightly, to press a feather light kiss to the pad of Jack’s thumb before giving a languid, full-body stretch and settling against the pillows with eyes only just cracked open. Mark yawned.

 _You are so gorgeous…_ Jack let his eyes wander down the exposed parts of Mark’s body as he stretched, knowing exactly how that body felt pressed against him, knowing the little sounds Mark made when he was close, the way his mouth felt as he came. He _knew_ that now, and no one would be able to take those memories from him.

“...if I fall back asleep, just… leave it… I’ll deal with it later…. Might not… be the best idea to… to wake me up, y’know….” he drawled, voice thick with exhaustion.

“You should probably change your pants if you can get out of bed,” Jack suggested. “Just in case you do fall asleep again. I won’t wake you up.” He crept a hand beneath the duvet to press against his own erection, taking a shaky breath. Mark was half-asleep and looked so much like his old self, like the super late nights they’d spend in L.A., staying up until the sun started to rise again, talking about everything and nothing. Jack knew it wasn’t even going to take him five minutes in the bathroom. More than likely, he’d wrap his hand around his dick and jizz immediately. “I’ll bring a wet cloth back for your hand.”

Jack eased himself out of bed, quickly turned away from Mark before the other could see his problem. He practically held his breath as he slipped out of the room, focusing intently on not walking funny around the log in his pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	40. Morning 190: An Uncomfortable Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark is not a healthy man.

Jack actually woke up before Mark for once. Usually, by the time he fully woke up, the other half of the bed had gone cold and Mark was puttering around in the kitchen, making breakfast and tempting Jack out of the cozy bed with the delicious scents of coffee and bacon.

Have a roommate who liked waking up was _awesome_.

This morning, though, Mark was still snugly in Jack’s arms when Jack woke up, calm and relaxed, fast asleep. Jack took a few minutes to just lie beside him, drinking in the sight of Mark’s peaceful sleeping face. No nightmares last night, unless you count the...event earlier in the morning.

Jack suspected Mark wasn’t going to count it. Jack knew he wasn’t. Getting to hold Mark, kiss him, talk him through an orgasm… it was practically as good as sex, as far as Jack was concerned.

“I love you,” Jack murmured under his breath. And it was precisely because he loved Mark so much that he drew back, untangling himself gently from the sleeping man and getting to his feet. Out of bed, he yawned and stretched his arms over his head, then padded out of the bedroom to let Chica out

By the time Chica had finished doing her business and Jack had two mugs of coffee ready, Mark was still not awake. Jack peered in at his sleeping boyfriend, then shrugged and beckoned Chica into the room. He set the mugs on the nightstand and crawled back into bed. Sleepy Mark and a warm bed was far more tempting than a cold kitchen and making breakfast.

Mark was soft and pliant, and Jack was able to ease his arms around the other man again, drawing him close to his chest. Chica jumped on the bed and settled over their feet, making herself comfortable. Jack huffed a little laugh against Mark’s hair, closing his eyes and snuggling in close. “I love you,” he murmured again, closing his eyes.

“ _Hmmmrrrghhnnn… love you….”_ Mark rumbled around a massive yawn. He huffed out a happy sigh. “G’mornin’...”

Jack chuckled again, yawning into Mark’s hair and pressing a kiss there. “Someone sounds like he had a good sleep,” he teased. Alas, getting up to let Chica out served its purpose in waking Jack up too. Even without coffee, he wasn’t sleep-heavy. He could still indulge in holding Mark, trailing his fingers down Mark’s back and remembering how the other man had arched into his touch just hours earlier. “How’re you feeling?”

Even awake, Mark was still loose and relaxed. While that wasn’t too uncommon for first-thing-in-the-morning Mark, this _was_ first-thing-in-the-morning-after-an-orgasm Mark. Jack had no experience with Mark in this state. He couldn’t help but wonder if Mark was going to be better or worse after the experience last night.

Mark gave a happy little hum of a burble. “Someone had a _very_ good sleep,” he replied in a similar tone.

Humming his contentment again, Mark burrowed a bit closer to Jack; tucking his face into Jack’s neck. “I feel… _fantastic…._ I don’t feel like a _million_ bucks, I feel like _two_ million bucks.” One of his hands tangled up in Jack’s shirt, while the other rested loosely over his ribs. “...what about you? What monetary value would you assign _your_ feelings today, Jackaboy?”

“Two million sounds about right,” Jack murmured back to Mark. “Euros, though, cause we’re in Ireland.” He squeezed his arms around Mark’s back and took a deep, contented breath. Mark was smiling into his neck, and Jack just wanted to kiss him again. He settled on kissing Mark’s hair, nosing through the dark strands. “I made coffee. Chica went out. We don’t have to get out of bed for _hours_.”

It was the perfect start for a perfect day. Who needed breakfast? With coffee by the bed, Jack could stay here _all day_. Except for bathroom breaks. And to record his videos. Dammit. Why did he have a job that didn’t have weekends or days off? He sighed. At least he had an hour or two before he really needed to get up and moving.

“I dunno euros though…. Dammit, Jack.” Mark huffed the complaint, and then giggled. “Stoppit. That tickles.” He wiggled in Jack’s arms. “You’re one pain in the butt of a godsend, Sean McLoughlin. Coffee _and_ Chica? Must still be dreaming.” He dipped his head down and pressed his own nose into Jack’s shoulder, breathing deep. “...why d’you always smell so nice, asshole? ‘S not fair….”

“ _I_ smell nice? You’re the one who always smells like…” Jack chased Mark down, sniffing obnoxiously at his hair. “Mm, garden soil and dog hair. Home.”

That was one word too much. Jack’s eyes widened, and he tensed in Mark’s arms, but just for a moment. Mark already knew. Mark _knew_ Jack loved him, had loved him, for so many years. Calling Mark home… how was that any different? He relaxed again, sighing against Mark’s hair. This _was_ his home, his bed and Mark and Chica, with the morning rain pattering down outside, and the tatertots growing heartily in the garden and _not_ being eaten by badgers.

“OhmyGodJack _youcreep._ ” Mark babbled with a slightly hysterical giggle. He buried his face into Jack’s shoulder, but then he tilted his head back and pressed a feathery soft kiss to the curve of Jack’s jaw. The hand gripping at Jack’s shirt relaxed and splayed out its fingers along Jack’s chest. Mark squeezed at Jack’s side and bumped their knees together. “ _Home._ Yeah, I think that’s a good word for you, too….”

Jack’s eyes fluttered closed. He wanted to lean down and kiss Mark properly. He didn’t. He turned his head to the side to press his cheek against the top of Mark’s head. Mark’s hand was warm against his chest, and their legs were just shy of pressing together.

 _Home._ Mark thought of him as home too. Jack smiled, cuddling the other man close. He couldn’t imagine letting go anytime soon. He couldn’t imagine ever _wanting_ to let go. He was content to just hold Mark forever.

Of course, what he was content to do tended to vary from minute to minute, and after several long minutes of comfortable silence, Jack risked shattering it with a question. “Mark, last night…?”

Mark sucked in a swift breath through his nose and tightened his fingers. “...I love you….” He pressed his face back against Jack’s neck and shivered. “...I do… I _do,_ Jack… please….”

“I love you too.” Jack turned his head to kiss Mark’s hair again, rubbing soothingly over his back. “Mark, I love you too. Don’t doubt that. I’m not...I’m not upset, Mark. I’m not unhappy about last night. I’m actually… actually _really_ happy. That you trusted me that much.”

“I-I… I’m not. I’m not, I’m just… scared. I’m sorry. I don’t….” Mark’s words and breath shook as he pressed his lips to Jack’s neck. He was still trembling, but Jack could feel him taking deep breaths, focusing on his breathing so as not to panic. “...you’re not upset? Are you sure? There’s, it’s… there’s a lot to be upset about, Jack.”

“There’s a lot we need to _talk_ about,” Jack corrected Mark gently. “But I’m not upset, and I’m not… yeah.”

“Talking’s so hard, though….” Mark whined into Jack’s neck.

Jack didn’t try to pull Mark out of the safety of hiding against him. He kissed and nuzzled and rubbed, trying to stay as soothing as he could. “Is… was that the first time? Since…?” Jack had figured it was, but he wanted to make sure.

Mark clenched his jaw. “...yeah. Y-yeah, it… first time.” He swallowed hard. “I couldn’t… d-didn’t want to, before….”

Jack nuzzled Mark’s hair, gave him a tighter squeeze. “Thank you. For trusting me. For letting me help you with that. I’m glad… I’m glad you were able to. It was… it was probably a huge step for your recovery. You were looking, _sounding_ almost back to your old self this morning.”

Aside from the tension now, Mark _had_ been more relaxed and calm and _normal._ He had let Jack tease him about dog hair without even so much as a flinch, and he’d been loose and happy and just… _Mark_. The shadow in his face had been gone, from the few glimpses Jack got before Mark burrowed into his neck, and his smile just looked so much _easier_. It felt easier, when he’d press it against Jack’s skin. Last night had been a _good_ thing. A necessary thing.

Mark wiggled an arm beneath Jack to give him a clinging hug. He exhaled. “...I trust you more than anyone, Jack. I told you that. I… I couldn’t have done that, with anyone else. Not now. And not just because you’re my b-boyfriend.” He pressed his mouth to the spot where Jack’s collar met his skin and murmured against it. “...it felt good. It did. I felt… better- _feel_ better. I think… I think I needed that. To… to do that. Without the pain and humiliation. I forgot… just how good it was. For stress.” Mark gave another shuddery breath. “Thank you, Sean….”

Jack was tracing patterns on Mark’s back now, squiggles and hearts and stars, as Mark talked. “I’m sorry they took that from you,” he said quietly, closing his eyes and just breathing alongside Mark. “And I… I’m glad I was able to help you take it back. It’s _your_ body. You deserve to be able to enjoy it, no matter _what_ they did.”

Mark had been so heartbreaking last night, begging Jack for permission to touch himself, to _enjoy_ himself, begging Jack to tell him it wasn’t going to hurt. Jack stopped drawing shapes and wrapped his arms around Mark again, hugging him close. _I love you. So much. You are so amazing for enduring all this._

“Me too….” Mark sighed and nuzzled at Jack’s neck. “...but you helped me take it back…it _is_ my body… isn’t it? It’s… it’s still mine. No matter what they did, it’s not theirs. It’s… it’s not _anyone’s._ Right? And… and if I enjoy something, or feel happy, it’s… okay. It is.” He turned his head so he could press his cheek against the rise of Jack’s shoulder. “...I’m glad we confessed, before… _that_ happened.”

“Oh god yes, me too.” Jack had _no_ idea what he would have done if they hadn't been...sort of dating. (Sort of, because they'd never actually been _on_ a date, just jumped straight to living together.) “I mean, I would've...probably done much the same stuff, but without the kisses. It's...you needed it. What… what I said.”

Jack hesitated, then pressed on. “What I said for you last night, Mark...we...we never really…” He grumbled in frustration at himself, rubbing Mark's back again so the other man didn't think it was directed at him, and shook his head. _Just say it._

“We've dealt a lot with the physical and mental abuse they did,” Jack said, remembering all the times Mark would be insecure about his body or start acting like a dog again. Jack was very good at coaxing Mark back from a bad touch or word or even a thoughtless canine act, “but we haven't really even _begun_ to touch on… on the sexual side.” And the sexual abuse was obviously a huge part of what Mark suffered in that room, being raped and humiliated for the world to see, over and over.

Jack’s face was red, and he hid in Mark’s hair as best he could, hoping Mark couldn't feel his own nervousness in his heartbeat or breathing. “I think… I think we need to. If we're gonna do this. Try to… to be anything. Boyfriends.”

Mark squeezed at Jack tighter. His fingers twitched and curled into Jack’s back. “...I'm sorry. I'm sorry. If I was normal, if they hadn't fucked me up, I… w-we wouldn't need to have this conversation at all. We could just be normal boyfriends and love each other and do stupid, gay shit together without… without me forcing us both to walk on eggshells. To keep so many things in mind so I don't get triggered Jack I… I'm sorry. I'm sorry they broke me before we could be like this I'm so sorry.” His voice broke and his breath hitched with the risk of a sob as he tucked his chin over Jack’s shoulder.

“Mark, you’ve _never_ been normal,” Jack pointed out. He kept his hold on Mark, rocking him back and forth just a couple inches, the most movement he dared. “ _I’ve_ never been normal. That’s part of the reason we’re so good together. We’re both completely abnormal in similar ways.” Jack knew what Mark actually meant, but he didn’t want Mark to apply those sorts of terms to himself negatively.

“And look, I don’t know what sort of storybook perfect relationships _you’ve_ had before, but in every single one of mine, having talks like this one _is_ important. And normal. Just talking about what’s okay and what isn’t, where hard lines are, where soft lines are that could be tested once we know each other better…” Jack sighed and squeezed his arms around Mark. “Yeah, you’ve got a shit ton more baggage than any of my girlfriends ever did. But everyone has baggage. And you… you’re not _broken_ , Mark. You’re hurt. And you’re healing. But I don’t look at you and see someone truly _broken._ ”

Mark gave a melancholic scoff and a little sniffle. “That's n-not what I meant and you know it, s-smartass…I _know_ you're supposed to talk about what's okay and what isn't, Jack. I do. I'm not naive. I just… this isn't like me saying ‘nah Jack I'm not into the whole foot fetish thing’ or you saying ‘Mark I really wanna top today’ or discussing safe words. I… I couldn't get off last night without you telling me it was okay, Jack. I c-couldn't even touch myself without….” His voice broke again. _“Fuck….”_

He sniffled louder and removed an arm from Jack’s back to swipe stubbornly at his face. “I've got enough baggage for a whole flight of passengers Jack and I don't even u-understand how it's worth it to you. M-maybe I'm not broken. Maybe I am healing but I'm not whole, either. I'm n-not, and I never will be again because they cracked me all over, Jack, and I don't know wh-what we’re going to do…. This is all a big mess because of me. Because of what they _did_ to me.”

“What _they_ did _to_ you,” Jack stressed, pulling back from Mark so he could look down at Mark’s face, wet and crumpling, eyes slightly unfocused without glasses. He reached up to touch Mark’s cheek, first just a gentle contact so Mark knew what he was doing, then a bit firmer as he nudged Mark’s hand aside and wiped his tears himself. “Not what you _are_ , Mark. And I love you for what you are. _Who_ you are. And if… if you’re cracked, then we’ll fix you. We’ll… have you ever heard of kintsugi, Mark?”

“N-no….”

“It’s the art of fixing cracked and shattered pots. With gold. And making something beautiful, even better than before. And it’s better _because_ it was cracked. Because the crack, the _history_ of the pot or vase or bowl is kept, but it’s also made whole and usable again, and it’s...” Jack groaned, shaking his head. “I’ll have to show you pictures. Remind me to show you pictures next time we’re at a computer. “It’s beautiful. _You’re_ beautiful. Like kintsugi.”

Jack kept touching Mark’s cheeks, but now with the intent just to touch, to caress Mark’s face and keep reassuring him of Jack’s affection. “We’re gonna fix you, Mark, fill in all your cracks with gold, and you'll be even better than you ever were before. You _will.”_ He leaned in to press their foreheads together, looking into Mark’s watery eyes. “I love you. Cracks and all.”

“I… hadn’t thought of it… like that. It’s… I like it. The idea. You’ll have to show me some time. Maybe later today, after we’ve gotten settled in.” Mark looked up at Jack. Their foreheads were pressed together. Mark leaned into Jack’s touch and then turned his head and kissed Jack’s palm. “I love you….”

Mark brought up his hand to brush a thumb gently at Jack’s lips. “Jack… this is gonna sound _really,_ ** _really_** cheesy, but…. You are my gold.” His smile was shaky, but there. “I… really wanna kiss you right now….”

“I just called you a pot,” Jack said, meeting Mark’s smile with his own. “I think cheesy is one of our _things_.” He leaned in closer to Mark, pressing his lips to the corner of Mark’s lips. “I really wanna kiss you right now too. So I'm gonna. Okay?”

“Should I call you a kettle then? It’d be fitting, with the tea and stuff.”

Jack paused a moment to give Mark a chance to process the words, then finished leaning in to brush their lips together. He moved slowly, squeezing his arm around Mark’s back as they kissed. This wasn't like their earlier kisses. Neither of them were drowning in arousal and need, and Jack could just _enjoy_ the press and move of their mouths against each other.

Jack’s eyes fell shut, and he spread his hand against Mark’s cheek, cupping his face and holding him close as they kissed. It was long and slow, a perfect kiss for a lazy morning.

When they did break apart again, it wasn’t for lack of breath or tension building in Mark’s frame. It was just because it was the right time to draw back, separating with dozens of gentle brushes of their lips, their beards rasping together. “I love you,” Jack whispered against Mark’s mouth. “So fucking much. You have no idea.” _I want to spend the rest of my life just like this, with you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	41. Day 197: The Power of the Internet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack encounters a viewer of Markiplier while out on the town.

Every excursion into the outside world led to Jack being recognized these days. Unless he _really_ went all-out to avoid identification, he stood out in the traditional city of Athlone. His green hair alone was unmistakeable, and while he usually covered it with a hat of some kind, his face was a familiar one. Sometimes, they only wanted a picture, or a hug, and Jack was always so happy to indulge them. Sometimes they wanted to talk, and while Jack loved hearing from the people who made up his community...he really didn’t want to get into a discussion of the metaphysical meaning of Cluster Truck while debating which flavor of ice cream Mark would like best.

This time, the recognition came when he was leaving the pharmacy with Mark’s antibiotics. Mark was off most of his meds, but Dr. Agon was keeping him on a light antibiotic regimen to try to kick the last lingering traces of the pneumonia from his lungs. He stepped out of the way for a teenager entering, and she stopped in the doorway, staring at him with huge brown eyes.

“Oh. My. _God!_ Jacksepticeye!?”

Jack chuckled a little, taking a step back so she could get out of the doorway. “Yep, you found me! What’s your name?”

“S-S-Sarah…” She was shaking, trembling from head to toes. Jack always thought that sort of reaction was sweet but completely unnecessary. He was _just a guy_! (But also _just a guy_ remembering his own extreme reactions when Markiplier and Pewdiepie first reached out to him, noticed him, the first time they met… he fully understood the starstruck shakes.) “ _Oh my god._ ”

“It’s so awesome to meet you, Sarah! Do you watch my videos, then?”

Sarah nodded, clutching at her purse. “I watch _all_ of your videos...and Markiplier’s!”

Oh dear. Jack’s smile didn’t falter, but he was already running through possible questions she might ask him. As far as their communities knew, Mark was still living with Jack in Athlone, in a purely platonic fashion. They had separate rooms and separate beds. Chica lived with them too, as a touchstone for Mark. Mark’s channel was starting to produce content again, and he obviously recorded in Jack’s space when he turned his facecam on, but the angle was off: they had separate desks. Neither of them were out. They both insisted Septiplier was _not_ a thing. Mark was in Ireland for health reasons, and not at all because Jack didn’t want to let him go (or because Mark was still mentally pretty fucked up).

“Is… does… is he still living with you? Here? Like, locally?”

Sarah’s eyes were wide, and she was stammering through her words, but she was getting coherent phrases out. Jack rewarded her with a nod and a little smile. “Yeah, he is.” He didn’t volunteer any additional information, like why Mark wasn’t in town with him. Sweet as she was, there was no reason to trust Sarah with that knowledge.

“I have something for him!” Sarah rocked back and forth on her toes, bouncing in place. “I mean… the community has something for him! A lot of things! Can I give them to you?”

“You have something for Mark?” Jack was surprised, but he nodded, his smile a touch softer than it had been before. “Yeah, of course I can pass it on to him. Do you have it here?”

“I...no. It’s at home.” Sarah glanced over her shoulder, then back to Jack. “It’s… it’s a huge box of stuff. Do you… can you come to my place to pick it up?”

Jack hesitated. Sarah was obviously Irish, from how she spoke, a local girl and not a highly dedicated stalker. Still, she was technically a stranger, and going to a stranger’s house to pick up an unknown box…

“It’s weird, I’m sorry, I know it is, it’s just…” Sarah fidgeted, looking down at her feet. “It’s just, a bunch of us in Mark’s community, we were all talking about how we wished we could give him our love and support while he recovers, and I knew he was in Athlone with you, so I said I lived here and could maybe run into you, so a bunch of his fans have been sending me things, letters and fanart and little toys and cards and stuff, so I could give them to him if I ever saw him, or you if I saw you instead. We’ve been trying to keep it secret, keeping it under ‘read more’ cuts and stuff, and it’s… I think I’ve gotten everything I was expecting. So, um…”

“It’s all stuff to support Mark?” Jack was wary...but Sarah seemed genuine enough. And it wasn’t like he was _scared_ of her. He wanted to trust her.

Sarah nodded eagerly. “I don’t know how much you’ve been following his community, but… his recovery really means a lot to a lot of us. A lot of us are… we’re dealing with our own shit, abuse or scars or… crap like that. And we just… we wanted to support him, and let him know he’s not alone, and I mean, obviously none of us suffered _anything_ like what he did, but it’s just...he’s a celebrity, you know? And his life is far from perfect. He suffering and struggling and trying to pull himself together, and it’s just like… if he can do it, we can do it too. If we can believe in him, and cheer for him… we can do it for ourselves too. You know?”

Jack nodded, his mind made up. “Yeah. Of course I do.” Mark could _relate_ to so many in their communities now, so many who came up to them at conventions to say that their videos were their only source of happiness, or that they were struggling through tough times and turned to Mark’s vlogs for inspiration. Mark and Jack had their own shares of troubles in the past, but neither of them could understand what it felt like to have a major depression, or to be abused physically, mentally, or sexually. Neither of them had visible, disfiguring scars until now, or prolonged illnesses that kept them from their friends and families. Mark’s trauma opened up a new world of understanding, and it was resonating strongly with their fans. And Mark’s community had come together for him?

“Lead the way,” Jack told Sarah. “I’ll bring him the box.”

By the time Jack made it back to the cottage by the river, he was eternally grateful the box Sarah had given him had handholds. It was incredibly bulky, and the weight of so much paper inside made it heavy. Jack propped it against the doorframe as he unlocked the door, then stumbled inside without dropping it. “Maaaaaark!” he called. “I’m back!” _And I got you a present!_ Mark would notice immediately. Jack had gone to the store for medicine, not for a huge paper box.

“Did you get lost or something on the way back? It took you longer than usual.” Mark called from the kitchen. “You didn't get attacked by more wild badgers, did you??” He gave a faux little gasp of dismay came out to greet Jack properly, untying his apron. He stopped short at the sight of the giant box in Jack’s arms. He blinked.

“Uh… Jack? I don't remember my medicine being in a box that big…Oh. Did you get a bunch of fan gifts? Was there some important anniversary I forgot about? Oh crap, don't make me sleep on the couch if I forgot to get you a present!” The last bit was clearly a joke but Mark’s initial questions were genuine.

“I did get a bunch of fan gifts,” Jack said with a grin, “but not for me. These are all for you!” He offered Mark the box.

“Apparently, your community has appointed a point person here to collect all the Get Well Soon stuff people want to give you, and she ran into me at the pharmacy today. So...here you go!”

The contents of the box were so much more than “get well soon.” Sarah had shown Jack a couple of the letters where fans were pouring out their own anguish, but also offering Mark coping strategies and urging him to “stay determined.” The whole box was like that, she had told Jack. Mark's community was really rallying around their hurting leader.

“What?” Mark accepted the box. He immediately grunted and had to adjust his grip; it was heavier than it looked. His gaze flicked between the box to Jack and back again in slight disbelief. “For me? Seriously?” He shuffled over to set the box on the coffee table and put his medicine off to the side. “That's…”

Mark smoothed his hands down the sides of the box as he crouched down. “That's amazing…. I had no idea they were even…” He exhaled a little shakily and just let his hands rest on the edges of the box.

Jack flopped onto the couch behind Mark, reaching out to touch his boyfriend’s shoulder. “They love you. I guess they've been planning this in secret for a while now. I had no idea either!”

Mark twitched from the touch but didn’t pull away. He actually leaned into the press of Jack’s fingers after a few moments of hesitation. Some of the tension that had started locking up his muscles seeped away and he huffed out a soft sigh. “Sneaky rascals, all of them. They always surprise me with stuff like this…. I probably should’ve seen it coming. D-damn it, these things always make me cry….”

Jack loved presents, even if he wasn't on the receiving end. He _wanted_ to stay and watch Mark, but…

“Do you want me to give you some privacy?” These weren't going to be cute fan gifts. There was going to be a _lot_ of personal, emotional content, and Jack didn't want to horn in on Mark taking it all in. “Or I could stay as you go through it all, or I could...take some pictures, or record it, so you can give that back to them?”

Mark took a deep breath. He shifted on the balls of his feet, then sat back. “I think… I think recording it might be good. I… would kind of like to be able to look back on this. You know? And… you’re right, too. About giving them something back. I want them to know I got their love and appreciation and comfort through more than just a text post. We can… edit parts out, if they get too raw. For the published video. But… I want to remember this. _All_ of this.” Mark brushed fingertips along a stack of letters before looking over his shoulder at Jack. There was still a mixture of awe and gratitude spilling all over his face. “Could you…?”

Jack leaned in, brushing his lips over Mark's cheek. He was still hesitant about kissing his boyfriend, but he tried to do it as often as he dared, partly to help Mark acclimate to more physical contact, but mostly because he liked kissing his boyfriend. He was rapidly growing addicted to Mark.

“I'll get the good camera. We can set it up on a tripod, and I can take pictures too, so at the very least there can be some static shots. The video doesn't have to be shared if you don't want it to, but we can definitely edit it. And how about...how about something to eat first? If this is anything like convention gifts, it's gonna take hours to get through it all. You're gonna need the sustenance.”

Mark smiled for Jack and then jolted a little at the mention of food. “Oh, crap, lunch! I forgot all about it ‘cause of the box, Jack, this is your fault. I’m fully blaming you if our sandwiches are soggy. Let’s eat.”

“Is that what smells so good?” Jack asked. He got to his feet and offered Mark two hands up. “You know, most Septiplier fans don't peg _you_ as the housewife…”

“Nah, it’s just me.” Mark teased with a cheeky bat of his eyelashes. He took the proffered hands and rose to his feet. Then he scoffed as if Jack’s statement was utterly preposterous. “Well they should stop questioning just how _manly_ you can be, Mr. Jacksepticeye. Or how _demure_ I am.” He primped at what hair he had and purposefully re-tied his apron strings. “I garden, I cook, I take care of the house and I look _damn good_ while doing it. All for my mega macho man.” He reached out to give Jack’s cheek a few rough pats and grinned when Jack laughed.

They convened from their unboxing to stuff their faces with the lunch Mark had prepared. Thankfully, the sandwiches were only a _little_ soggy (they dipped them in the soup anyway, so it didn’t really matter too much). The soup ended up being a little spicy from Mark’s heavy-handed seasoning but neither of them seemed to mind. In fact, Jack _loved_ the soup and enthusiastically let Mark know.

Mark helped Jack set up the tripod camera so it had a good angle on the couch and coffee table. The top of Mark’s head would be cut-off if he stood for his intro, so he sat on the couch. Jack prepared another camera for some stills and shot Mark a thumbs-up from the other side of the room.

Mark stared down the camera, determined. When he smiled at it, the expression was small but genuine. He drew a deep breath in and gave a nod at Jack. Jack hit the record button.

“Hello everybody, my name is _Markiplier_ and today I thought we’d do something just a little bit different. You see, I’ve got a _box_ here.” Mark gently slapped his hands against the cardboard sides to emphasize. “No, it’s not Tiny Box Tim. _Awesome_ as that’d be. It’s way too big to be Tim. But that’s okay, because it _needs_ to be big. Know why?” It was obvious in his expression that he was enjoying the possible torment of his fans as he drew out the “big reveal”. “‘Cause it’s full of _love._ And some goodies. And paper. A _lot_ of paper.” Mark dug out a stack of letters to show the camera.

He set the stack down and patted at the box again. “Apparently, you guys have been working on a little project while I’ve been stuck over here in sunny, _tropical_ Ireland _._ ” Mark looked off-camera at Jack. Jack rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, grinning at Mark’s smothered chuckle. “But really, I don’t know how you all managed to keep this under wraps from me. I mean, even _Jack_ didn’t know about it until today. When he brought this giant box home I thought it was his latest shipment of love letters.” Mark was clearly amused, but Jack was mock-glaring at him. “Turns out, you’ve been sending stuff here to Ireland for a while now. Almost as long as I’ve _been here_ , maybe?? Holy _balls,_ guys, that’s amazing! _You’re_ amazing. And I really wanna give a shoutout to Sarah for fielding all your letters and gifts. It’s just too bad it took Jack so long to run into her. Thanks Sarah!”

Mark was beaming as he dragged the box a bit closer. “Anyway, I’m rambling here and Jack’s giving me a look that screams _‘ye be draggin’ this bit out too long methinks, Merkiplier’_.” He threw his voice into a terrible, slightly higher pitched Irish accent. “But with all seriousness and without further to-do, I’m gonna open up this baby and see what kinda swag you guys sent me! I’m gonna give a big thank you in advance to everyone and make a note here that if you don’t see something you sent in the video, it doesn’t mean I didn’t get it. We’re gonna be editing this down but I _promise,_ if you sent it and Sarah got it, then I’m taking a look at it. Now let’s see… letter number one of seventy bajillion: _‘Dear Markiplier…’_ ”

There were so many letters. A majority of the box was simply paper; sheets of it tucked away in envelopes of varying sizes. Some of them were cards- store bought or handmade. A few letters were handwritten, but most of them were typed. Mark read through long letters and short ones, some out loud, some to himself, but he read every letter he touched and voiced his gratitude for each and every sender. Occasionally, he’d offer a few words of support or advice himself. Jack watched quietly, moving around the room to take a few pictures of Mark from various angles and keeping an eye on the camera. It was plugged into an adaptor so the battery wouldn’t run out. Jack just hoped the card wouldn’t get full.

Before Mark had even gotten halfway through the box, he was crying too hard to continue. Jack paused the recording and called for Chica. The two of them sat with Mark, Chica leaning against his thigh, Jack wrapping around him in a hug. Eventually, Mark stopped sobbing into Jack’s shirt, and he was able to wash his face while Jack swapped out the video card and took the first one to transfer the files to his computer.

When the second recording started, Mark took a break from the letters to show off the other treasures from the box. There was a complete armful of Tiny Box Tims, which all got gathered up against Mark’s chest. There was scores of fanart. Sometimes Jack was featured alongside Mark. Sometimes Tim was. Sometimes Chica (frequently Chica). Mark thanked each and every person individually if he knew their names, and generically if he didn’t.

When they finally reached the end of the items, Mark returned to the letters. Chica remained curled up by his side as he opened envelope after envelope, reading letter after letter. The last one resonated with Mark, and he tucked it into his jeans, falling silent. Jack snapped a couple more photos, but he didn’t say anything. Chica was the first to interrupt Mark, nudging at his arm. Mark jumped and sent a sheepish grin at both Jack and the camera. “So! Uh. That… seems to be the last of them. Boy, I thought the box would just keep going for a while there! So many great stories and words of encouragement and presents from all of you. Thank you so much, everyone. This… it means more to me than I could ever try and explain. Really it does. I just… I appreciate all of you, so much. And I’m so grateful you’ve decided to stick around with me while I try to get everything in my life back in order. I know you all kept saying I inspired you but honestly, I feel like it’s the other way around. All of you inspire _me_ every single day and I sincerely hope I can keep returning the favor. That my voice and my videos can continue being a form of support in your time of need.

“Please, never forget there’s always someone out there who loves you. And wants the absolute best for you. If you’re depressed or even just going through a rough time, a loss, reach out to the people you love. They’ll be there to support you. I promise. And I’ll be here, too. The community will be here. Reach out to us.” Mark tapped at his chest and smiled. “Never forget how amazing each and every one of you are. You all deserve to be happy- _you_ deserve to be happy.” He looked directly into the camera. “Don’t let _anyone_ try to tell you otherwise. Thanks again everybody for watching. And as always, I’ll see _you,_ in the next video. Buh-bye!” Mark gave his signature grin-and-wave send-off to wrap up the video. Immediately after, he slumped down against the couch with a deep exhale. Chica wasted no time in crawling into his lap and he rewarded her with a good shoulder scratch. “What year is it?”

“2040. We are old men.” Jack turned off the camera and climbed out from behind it, stretching briefly before folding himself beside Mark and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Never forget there's someone out there who loves you,” he said, nuzzling against Mark's shoulder. “Lots of someones, from the sound of it, but a specific someone right here.”

“Good to know you aged well.” Mark’s smile returned with more ease than it used to. He leaned into Jack and tilted his head to rest his cheek on Jack’s hair. “The very best someone, you mean.”

Going through gifts from the community was always tiring, but in a good way. Going through such emotional gifts like these… “How're you holding up?” Jack asked. “Want to just Netflix and chill the rest of the day? Actual chill, not sex chill.”

“I’ll be okay. Just gotta let all the emotions settle. I think I got most of my bawling out earlier.” Giving a little hum, Mark snuggled closer. “That. Sounds _fantastic._ Are you sure it’s okay though…?”

“Got my videos recorded before I went out this morning,” Jack said. “The community will understand if I skip one day of hyper-monitoring. Only thing I need to do is find the post used to set this up so I can let them know you got their messages. Sarah gave me her Tumblr name and said she'd reblog it for me.” He could make thumbnails after dinner. Robin was editing both of tomorrow's videos. Jack had time. He tilted his head up to brush a kiss against Mark's neck. “I can put you first today.”

“Can you let me know when you find it? I want to reblog it too.” Turning his head with a sigh, Mark pressed a kiss to Jack’s hair. “You’re incredible, by the way. I’ll never stop being jealous of your work ethic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	42. Night 197: Branded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark decides to open up.

Later that day, after a dinner of pizza and Mark dragging Jack outside to watch the sun set over the River Shannon, the two were getting ready for bed. Jack hesitated when he saw Mark sitting at the edge of the bed. Usually, Mark was already _in_ bed by the time Jack came in. A Mark sitting up and fidgeting was not usually a good sign. Had something in the box been weighing on him?

“Jack. I… can we, uh… could we talk, for a minute? Sorry, I know you’re probably tired, it’s just… important. Please?” Mark hesitantly patted the spot beside him on the bed.

“Yeah, yes, of course. I'm not that tired, it's alright.” Jack tossed his dirty clothes in the general direction of the hamper and climbed onto the bed beside Mark. He didn't reach out for his boyfriend, figuring Mark would reach for him if he wanted to be touched. With how anxious Mark was already, Jack figured letting Mark set the entire pace was for the best. He sat facing Mark, trying to keep his body language as open as possible. “What's on your mind?”

Mark took a deeper breath. Briefly, he looked at Jack with shining appreciation and gratitude. “Thanks. Okay. Okay, uh… so….” He swallowed hard. “Jack… Sean, I… I have to tell you something. And it’s not gonna be good. It’s… it’s ugly. And horrible. And awful and God, Jack, I’m so, so sorry if this fucks you up I’ve been holding it back on purpose because I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want it weighing you down because you’re so good- so good to _me,_ you don’t deserve it, but I….”

Mark looked up at Jack’s eyes, his own shadowed and dark. “You _do_ deserve to know. Especially now that… that we’re boyfriends.” He glanced down and back up to Jack; hands squeezing at the edge of the bed. “I just… please don’t be upset that I kept it from you. That I asked Dr. Agon to keep it from you. Please.”

“Mark…” Jack wanted to reach out and take Mark's hand. He didn't. He did the next best thing, placing his hands palm up on the bed between them so Mark could accept his offer. “Mark, whatever it is, we'll face it together. Just like we've done everything else. I'm not...You're allowed to have your secrets. I won't be mad if you don't tell me everything. Especially not...You need to heal from some stuff before you can even begin tackling other stuff. Like with the collar. It wasn't even worth _trying_ to break your dependency until we could consistently calm you down from panic attacks. Your healing will come one step at a time.”

Mark didn’t immediately take Jack’s offered hands. He just sort of looked at them while Jack spoke. Whatever this was, Mark was _really_ anxious about it. Jack could see it in his eyes. And it was something Dr. Agon knew about, but Jack didn't? “You don't...you're not slowly _dying_ , are you? Or contracted an incurable STD?”

Mark scoffed and pressed their palms together. “No, no, God no, Jack. I would have told you about those ages ago if that was the case. I couldn’t have kept something like that from you.” Mark bowed his head a little. “It’s… it’s nothing he had to _take care of._ Just something he saw. _Because_ he was taking care of me. I… Jack. I know you watched the things on that website.” Mark looked back up to Jack. “And it’s okay! It is. I understand why you did it. I’m not… I’m not mad. I’m _not._ But… you saw them. So… do you remember that one where they… where….”

Jack curled his fingers loosely around Mark's and squeezed gently, relieved when Mark shot down his half-jested questions. Mark wasn't sick. He wasn't dying. Anything else, they could tackle.

Mark worked his jaw and sucked in a tight breath through his nose. “...the one where they tied me facedown on my stomach and carved into my back with a knife?”

Jack flinched at the memory, but he nodded, recalling the video of Mark face down on the filthy floor and so much blood. He'd been half afraid they were trying to cut Mark in half. “I remember it,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry.” Mark squeezed at Jack’s hands but didn’t look him in the eye.

“They weren’t just… they weren’t randomly carving into my back. I mean yeah, they wanted to hurt me and leave a scar. That was a thing. But… it wasn’t a bunch of lines or symbols or anything. They carved something specific there. Something no one could probably make out between the dimness and the blood and…” Mark stopped and drew another breath. He was significantly trembling now. “They… they’re letters, Jack. They carved letters… into my back….”

Jack rubbed Mark’s fingers reassuringly, letting go only when Mark pulled away. Letters? What did Mark mean by letters?

Shakily, Mark pulled his hands back and turned around. He stared off into space, and then reached for the hem of his night shirt. He dragged it up, revealing his back to Jack. Mark hunched forward a little and let his head fall with the motion. “I’m so sorry….”

When Mark first lifted his shirt, Jack didn’t look down. He knew looking at Mark’s exposed skin wasn’t allowed. It took him a moment to realize that this was Mark _giving him permission_ to look, and so only then did he let his gaze fall.

The scars of a whip across Mark’s back were expected, but they still made Jack’s heart squeeze in his chest. Mark had been so brutalized in that room, and every silvery pink healing mark was evidence of the pain he’d born. Whip scars weren’t letters, though. Jack kept looking down.

His breath caught when he recognized the scars Mark must have been talking about, an audible sign Mark was sure to pick up on. _S. M._ Not just letters. Initials. _His_ initials. Jack’s heart, already tight, plummeted somewhere deep in his guts. _His_ initials, carved into Mark’s back, deep enough to make Jack fear Mark was going to be cut in half. How must _Mark_ have felt, feeling that knife cutting into him? Did he know… of course he did. Of course they would have told him.

“S-Sean McLoughlin?” Jack asked, even though he knew he knew the answer. He lifted a hand, then let it fall again, closing his eyes for a moment. Mark bore his initials the way a dog would wear his owner’s tags. Only unlike the collar, this wasn’t something Mark could _ever_ remove.

Mark curled further forward so he could hug himself. He dug hands into his shoulders while his shaking worsened. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Jack, I didn't want you to know. I didn't want you to know what they did. It was already bad enough your name was part of the concept they abused. But then they… th-they just had to make it worse. They had to fucking br-brand me. Brand me as _yours._ I was so mortified. I was so _scared._ I thought they were going to paralyze me. I wanted to struggle to mess them up. To ruin the letters and their plans but I couldn't risk it. I could barely move from how they'd tied me down and there was nothing I could do, Jack. Nothing I could do to stop them I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry….” Mark’s breath hitched.

“Can I…” Jack hesitated, licking his lips nervously, then scooted himself a little closer on the bed. “Mark, can I… touch them? Touch _you_?”

Words couldn’t possibly make this better. Mark was fucking _branded_ with Jack’s initials, and they would never go away. He’d been tied up and sliced into and Jack _needed_ to make it better, but nothing he said would be good enough. The only thing Jack could think to do was touch, touch the scars, touch Mark’s skin, reassure him with his actions that he still found Mark beautiful and deserving of his love. How long had Mark been carrying this secret? Over… over a hundred days. Months and months, and he had never said a word to Jack… no wonder he never wanted Jack to look at him.

Mark shuddered. “...yeah. Y-yeah, you can… you can touch, Jack, I just…. C-careful, please. It's still… i-it's still a little sensitive….” Mark remained hunched forward on the bed, holding his breath.

Jack reached out carefully, brushing one finger against the S and watching Mark for his reaction. When it wasn’t a panic attack, he repeated the touch with two fingers, tracing the curving letter gently before following the M. _SM._ He swallowed against the lump choking his throat and eased himself a little closer. “Mark?” He was behind Mark, and that was almost never a good thing. “Mark, can I… can I hold you? And… and kiss you? And just…” Jack swallowed again, spreading his hand over Mark’s back, covering the letters as best he could. “Just _love_ you? Please?”

Mark sniffled, his breathing wet and harsh. _“Please._ Please, touch me, Jack. I n-need you. I need you to know I love you, please, please don’t feel like this changes anything. Please don’t _let_ this change anything it doesn’t m-mean anything Jack you don’t own me. N-no one owns me only _I_ own me I d-don’t care what they said….”

Jack twisted around on the bed, drawing his legs between himself and Mark so there was no chance he could pull Mark between them. He knew how the kidnappers would sit behind Mark, holding him in the V of their legs as they pulled him open and exposed him to the cameras. That would _not_ be a good position right now.

Carefully, Jack leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Mark’s waist and pressing lightly against his back. “Mark, _I love you,_ ” he murmured, touching his lips to Mark’s neck. “I love you, scars and all. You don’t have to beg, don’t _ever_ have to ask for my love. You already have it.”

Mark shivered from the contact but didn’t pull away. He snuffled out another quiet sob, one of his arms dropping and squeezing at Jack’s hand. “Jack….”

Jack closed his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths, trying to curl his horror up into a tiny ball and squash it down deep in his chest, with all his other negative feelings. He could cry about this later, tomorrow, next time he was in the shower alone and away from Mark. Right now, Mark needed his strength. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for trusting me with this. For trusting that you don’t need to hide. Not from me.” He hoped he never did anything to give Mark a reason to regret that trust.

Mark was fully crying now; hard and raw and ugly. “I d-don’t want to h-hide from you a-a-anymore….” The words were barely comprehensible through his choked breaths.

“I…” Jack could still feel Mark’s shaking body in his arms, and he wanted to ease his boyfriend’s tension somehow. Touching was allowed, though it made Mark cry. Mark was already crying, though, so more touching couldn’t really make that _worse_. But would touching actually help? Jack wanted to chase away Mark’s negative associations with the scars, with _all_ his scars. He didn’t mind them. They had been horrific at first, gross reminders of the torture Mark had endured, but Jack didn’t see them that way anymore. As they had healed over and stopped looking so raw and fresh, Jack realized that they were each of them proof of _Mark’s_ strength, and all he had survived. Every scar testified to a moment where Mark could have given up, where no one would ever have blamed him for giving up...and he didn’t. Jack was fond of Mark’s scars, oddly enough. He wished Mark didn’t have any of them, of course he did, but only inasmuch as no scars would mean no pain. Would mean Mark wouldn’t have had to suffer _at all_. Not because he thought Mark was hotter without them.

...would that help? Would expressing that fondness convince Mark of Jack’s sincerity? Jack squeezed his arms around Mark’s sides and nuzzled against his neck. “Mark, can I… can I try something? There? Can I kiss you there?”

Belatedly, Mark nodded. Jack closed his eyes, kissing the side of his neck again. “I love you, Mark,” he repeated. “No matter what. If you need me to stop, just say something, or pull away, or push me away. Kick me off the bed. I don’t care. I won’t get upset. I promise. Just like I said,” back when they first _actually_ talked about love, and a thousand times since then, “your comfort and security comes first. You _are_ safe here, with me. I promise.”

Mark just gave another nod. He had his hand pressed over his mouth, muffling his sobs. One more kiss was pressed against Mark’s jaw, and then Jack was pulling back slowly, letting his hands slide around to Mark’s sides as he unwrapped his hug to look at Mark’s exposed back again. Mark clung to Jack’s arms as long as he could, eventually letting one hand slip away. He reached back, clinging stubbornly to Jack’s fingers with his other.

The _SM_ stood out sharply over Mark’s spine. Jack knew he would never forget its location. He braced himself, then leaned down and touched his lips against the S.

It was just skin. Rough and raised, but still, just skin. The scar didn’t bite Jack or anything like that. He wasn’t sure why he had been so scared. It was just Mark’s skin, over Mark’s back, and Jack kissed it, traced the S with his lips and dared to touch his tongue to the M. _I love you, Mark,_ Jack thought as he dusted kisses along the scars and then spread out, finding the lines of the whip and chasing those with lips and tongue, working his way up Mark’s back slowly. He pressed as much love as he could into each jagged stripe, willing Mark to get some small pleasure from the touch. _So much._

Mark whimpered, weak and quiet, in the back of his throat. He was sobbing still, maybe even harder now. Mark cried and melted in the wake of Jack’s mouth. Under his breath, he finally spoke. “...y-you don’t have to, you don’t have to, Jack, you d-don’t… you don’t, it’s o-okay…”

“I want to,” Jack murmured, rubbing his thumbs over Mark’s skin as he continued to kiss his way along Mark’s back. He kept finding new scars with his tongue, tracing the lines of whip lashes up Mark’s ribs. “Mark, I _want_ to. I want to touch you, to kiss you, to taste your skin and learn how to love you. I _want_ this. You. Exactly as you are.”

At no point did Jack wish he was kissing the old Mark, without these old welts cut into his back. That Mark had been just a fantasy. This Mark was the real one, the living, breathing, _loving him_ one, solid and warm beneath Jack’s mouth and fingers, and Jack loved him.

“I-I'll never understand wh-why….” Mark‘s sobs were dying down, but he was still wiping at his soaked face with the hand not clinging to Jack’s fingers. “...but I still l-love you too. I'm sorry they dragged you into this…. I-it's not fair….”

“Life isn't fair. It's never fair. That's why it's our job, as intelligent people, to try to balance the scales as much as we can.” Jack nuzzled against Mark's spine and dragged his tongue along the other man's ribs. He slid his hands forward again, folding Mark into another hug.

“D-don't you go getting all philosophical o-on me now, Sean McLoughlin.” Mark snuffled and shivered at the last little lap of Jack’s warm tongue. Wiping his eyes one more time, Mark dropped his hand to join the other in hugging the arms wrapped around him. He squeezed them tight _._

“They dragged me into this? Fine. I'll make them regret it by loving you so much more than they ever thought I would. They want me to own you? If I have any claim on you, it's as my boyfriend, exact same as you have on me. _Exact_ same. I'm not better than you, or above you. I'm not your fucking _master_. I'm just Jack, and I just love you, and I _still_ find it hard to believe that I can do this to you. That you let me, _want_ me.”

Mark drew in a ragged breath and turned his head. “ _Of course_ I w-want you. You doof. What's not to want? You somehow manage to b-be this illegal combination of hot and adorable. You've got the most _gorgeous_ blue eyes I've ever seen in my entire life. Your smile could power a whole city for _days_. I love your smile. I love _you_ so much Jack don't make me fucking count the ways. We will be up _all night_ and it'll be all your fault because e-every time you doubt yourself I just can't help but talk myself hoarse reminding you about just how _amazing_ you are. You big idiot. Of course I love you, of course I want you. There h-hasn't been a day since I came back that I haven't… that I haven't felt like the luckiest man alive… to have you.” Mark had ducked his head forward again at some point, his face red with embarrassment _._

Jack pressed against Mark's back, listening quietly, his own face growing redder as Mark defended his love so passionately. He nuzzled into the curve of Mark's neck, tightening his arms around Mark's waist. “I could say something stupid about better ways we could be ‘up’ all night,” Jack mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. “But…”

Mark scoffed softly. “You still said something stupid.”

Mark probably wasn't ready for an actual sex joke. As it was, Jack was hoping his slight chub from getting to hold Mark in his arms, mapping out his back with his mouth and tasting so much of Mark's bare skin, wasn't noticeable. He was going to have to try to ignore it if they were going to get any sleep tonight.

Unless Mark was suffering a similar problem, from having his back kissed? Jack fought the urge to glance down. _Don't look_ was a common plea from Mark's lips. He didn't want to spoil Mark's trust by checking if he had a boner. Mark was probably wound too tight, anyway.

Don't look meant don't feel either, tempting as it was to just drop his hands a few inches and settle them in Mark's lap. Jack sighed, pressing his lips against the warm skin of Mark's neck. “Don't...Don't feel like you have to force yourself to try anything for me, okay? I'm happy just getting to hold you each night. Intentionally.”

“I know…. I know, it's just like… like my recovery. How you told me not to push. Just… instead of healing, it's new steps in our relationship- well, damn, I guess it still counts as healing but… whatever. You get the point.”

Mark huffed out an irritated breath through his lips and furrowed his brow. “I love it when you hold me. I do. And I like holding you too. But… that thing you were doing? Kissing and licking at my… it felt good. _Really_ good. I… I kind of want…” Mark paused to lick nervously at his lips. “...could you do that? Some more? Maybe in a position that I could… see you? Oh my God, this is so embarrassing I'm sorry.” He buried his face in his hand with a soft groan.

Mark wanted _more_? Well, there was a thought that dropped straight into Jack's groin. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose, but that only gave him a lungful of Mark's intoxicating scent. _Jack_ wanted more too, wanted to seal his lips against Mark's skin and discover the little nuances of tastes across his body.

But Mark also wanted to watch? “Um…” Jack frowned a little, brushing his mouth back and forth over Mark's neck, feeling the stubble rasp over his lips. “Still at your back?” How was that supposed to work?

“Uh, well, I mean….” Mark shivered gently and sucked in a breath. “I just want to see you. A-and feel you. I want you to feel me, Jack, I know I'm not being very coherent right now I'm sorry. I just…”

Or..or _somewhere else_? Jack's fingers were finding scars across Mark's exposed stomach, after all. He traced along one with a finger. “Or do you want me in front of you? Here?” Could he pull Mark's shirt off and spread his hands across Mark's broad chest? Map out the lines of truly unfair muscles crisscrossed with new scars? Jack gave a pleased little shiver at the thought, his dick definitely showing interest. “I'd...I'd be up for trying that. If you are. Heh. Up.”

Mark bit at his lip to hold back a giggle. “D-damn it, Jack, you're making this _harder.”_ He sighed. “...they never really kissed me, much. Not gently like you were. I… I want to feel that again. I want to see you- to _know_ it's you. I just… show me this doesn't have to be hard and rough and _terrifying._ Please. I want you to show me. So I won't be scared.”

“I hope I am,” Jack murmured against Mark's neck, pressing a kiss to Mark's pulse beating in his throat before he drew away. “Okay. Okay, let's...how do you want to do this?”

Jack released Mark so he could crawl around in front of him. He took Mark's shoulders to help him sit up, only feeling a little awkward from the obvious interest in his pants. At least he wasn't completely hard. He just wasn't able to hide the bulge. Mark glanced down and turned an even darker red.

“Do you want to sit up?” Jack asked, trying not to be awkward and cover his dick with his hands. “Or lie down? Shirt on or off or...sorry. Shit. Peppering you with questions probably isn't very sexy.” Jack couldn't help it. He was nervous. This was the first time he and Mark went beyond just kissing as an actual reciprocal thing. He wasn't just holding Mark and talking him through masturbation, but he was actively trying to pleasure Mark. Jack did not want to screw this up. Too bad he already was.

Mark looked back up at Jack’s face and cupped it with his hands. He just held Jack like that and breathed for a moment. Then he spoke in a tone so deep it rumbled in his chest like a velvet rock slide.

_“Kiss me.”_

Kissing Mark was easy. Jack had already done _that_ dozens of times. It was certainly a lot easier to slide close to Mark, one arm folding around Mark's waist as Jack leaned in and brought their lips together.

Jack's eyes closed, his nerves soothed by the familiar feel of Mark's lips beneath his. Mark was warm and solid in his arm, his voice sliding down Jack's spine as smooth as butter. This was easy. This felt _right_.

As they kissed, Jack let Mark manipulate him, going along with whatever Mark wanted, moving on his own only to keep from falling over and squishing his boyfriend. He might be the smaller of the two, but he wasn’t exactly light.

Mark leaned back against some pillows propped against the headboard. He tugged Jack just beside his thighs. The kiss lingered even after Mark settled down, but Mark eventually did pull back. He kept cradling Jack’s face, expression tender, and he slid his fingers up to comb through Jack’s hair. His nails dragged along Jack’s scalp lightly, making Jack shudder and sigh in delight. He _loved_ fingers in his hair, massaging against his head. They hadn’t even really gotten started, and Mark was already finding Jack’s buttons. He was going to have to work hard to catch up. (Hee, _hard_ again…)

“We can take our shirts off, but we need to do it together. Okay?”

“Okay.” Jack leaned in to take another soft kiss, pulling Mark’s lower lip between his teeth and tugging gently. “Okay, we should...do that. If you want…” If Mark wanted Jack’s mouth on his skin again, then Mark’s shirt would at least need to be pulled up. Taking it off completely would be easier. Jack could take his shirt off too. Mark had seen him shirtless before, when they’d go swimming together at hotels or in Mark’s own pool (and even in a few videos he’d made).

“I want. I _do._ I promise, I'll stop us if I start getting messed up.”

Jack drew back, soothing his own irritation at pulling away from Mark with a silent reassurance that everything would be even better very soon. He reached behind him for the collar of his shirt, tugging it over his head. Shirtless. He could be shirtless. He just...had never been shirtless in front of Mark with Mark _looking_ at him. Sure, Mark had _seen_ him before, but he had never really been _looking_. Not like this. Like… sexually. Jack’s face was pink by the time he shook his shirt off his arms, shyly looking to Mark as if needing his boyfriend’s approval.

Mark pulled his shirt off at the same time, his hair floofed up from the action. “Sean fucking McLoughlin if I need to start waxing poetic about how goddamn beautiful you are I'm going to kill _both_ our boners and then it's like that skeleton dude from Undertale says: _‘we’re gonna have a bad time’._ ” Mark’s eyes slipped over Jack’s exposed torso in a way they never had before. “You're so fucking gorgeous….”

“I’m a scrawny Irish beanpole,” Jack said, his blush deepening at Mark’s obvious adoration. Mark was looking at Jack like… like how _Jack_ looked at _Mark_ , with his broad chest and returning muscles. The nerd had _abs_ , for fuck’s sake! Jack would’ve been jealous if he didn’t know he was going to be touching said abs and enjoying them in his own way. “But if that’s what you’re into… you do you, Marki-” _moo,_ “-plier.”

“No, you’re a lean, mean, Irish fighting machine.” Mark was quick to counter Jack’s doubts. “And I’m not the _only_ person into ‘that’, Jack. I’m just the lucky one that actually gets it.” Mark reached for Jack but then stopped, struggling to find his words. “...can… can I…. I want to touch you. Can I touch you? Please?”

Mark’s grabby hands soothed Jack’s nerves. He knee-walked a little closer to Mark, catching Mark’s hands and drawing them to his own chest. “You can touch,” he reassured Mark. “You can… whatever you want, Mark, _whenever_ you want. Unless I’m recording. You can do… whatever. I trust you. Okay? You can ask if you want, but you… you don’t have to. Especially not if we’re… like this.” If Mark and Jack were _obviously_ getting stuff on, Jack didn’t want Mark to feel like he had to hold back anything. He highly doubted Mark would be willing to do anything Jack was uncomfortable with for a very long time. Kissing and touching was all perfectly fine in Jack’s book. Especially if it helped Mark calm down.

Mark spread out his fingers over pale skin, staring at where they touched for a minute before he dragged his gaze back to Jack’s face. “...are you sure? Jack, I know you’re not… I know you aren’t a minefield like me, but I can’t… I _don’t_ want to just assume anything I do is okay…. It doesn’t feel right. Not… not after what they did. I want to know you’re ready and you want it before I do anything to you. _Anything_ like… like this. I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable….”

Jack slid his hands up Mark’s arms, letting Mark touch however he wanted. “Mark, if I’m uncomfortable, I will let you know. I’ll ask you to stop. And if you make me uncomfortable, the worst that’ll happen is I’ll have a moment of discomfort. As soon as you stop, it’ll go away.” That’s how it worked without severe psychological damage and triggers. “I don’t want… I don’t want you to _not_ do something because you need to psych yourself up to ask for it first, does that make sense? I trust that you’re not gonna just… grab a knife or punch me or whatever. Obviously, I’m not saying you can _hurt_ me. And I’d stop you if you tried. But this sort of thing… if we’re sitting on the couch and you wanted to put your arm around me, or try kissing or something, you don’t need to ask. You can just focus your energy on actually _doing_ instead of trying to shape the question. And if you _do_ feel you need to ask, if you feel like it’s too much to presume, you can do that too. I’m just saying you don’t _have_ to. This is… I’m giving you blanket permission, okay?”

Jack lifted one hand to skim his fingers up Mark’s cheek, very gently. Face touches had to be careful and slow. “I _know_ blanket permission isn’t something you should just assume. I read a lot of Tumblr. I _know_. In a normal relationship, we’d set our boundaries and respect them and ask about everything new… but we don’t exactly have a normal relationship. I know even this much is asking a lot from you, and I don’t want… I don’t want things to be _harder_ because you feel you have to ask permission for everything. And… and I don’t _want_ you to ask for permission for everything. I’m not… I’m not your master. Even though it’s _my_ body, I just… I want you to get used to… defying me isn’t the right word, because you have my consent, but… you know? They’d… they’d insist you ask for everything, right?” Jack glanced over at Mark, worrying his own lip between his teeth. “I want us to be different than that.”

Mark gently smoothed his hands in light, curious strokes along Jack’s pecs. There was still affection and adoration on his face, but now it was mixed with uncertainty. “I… I get what you’re saying, Jack. I know you’d stop me if things went too far and I _know_ you’re not going to dissolve into a mess of tears and screaming if I… if I do something wrong. I know. But that’s new, and completely against everything I was made to believe in that… in the room. With them. Part of me is just so scared to… _be_ like them.

“...they’d force me to beg for everything….” Mark’s palms smoothed up and over the narrow curve of Jack’s shoulders. His fingers curled into the hairs at the back of Jack’s neck. “...I don’t want to have to ask. Or beg. But I’m scared. I… I’ll try. I will. But it might take some time. I need to see that you’re… you’re _okay,_ with all of this. With my eyes- not just words. It’s.. it’s _important_ to me, Jack. I promise I don’t see you the way they wanted me to….”

“You’re not like them, Mark,” Jack said, smoothing his thumb over Mark’s cheek and smiling encouragingly at the other man. “You could _never_ be like them. I _know_ you don’t want to see me hurt. You’d feel horrible if you made me uncomfortable. I _know_ that, and that’s precisely _why_ I can trust you and give you this. Because you’re nothing like _them_.”

Mark was still nervous in front of Jack, and Jack wanted to ease some of his anxiety. He kept his light touch to Mark’s face and shook his head slightly, rubbing the back of his head against Mark’s fingers. “I like this,” he said. “I like head rubs, and fingers in my hair. I like skin-to-skin contact. I mean, I like just about _all_ contact, if you haven’t figured out by now that I’m a cuddly potato, you’re a blind idiot, but I like _this_.” He gave a little roll of his shoulders against Mark’s palms. “And, I mean…” Jack glanced down at his own lap, his blush deepening at the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pushing at his sleep pants. “It’s kinda… _obvious_ , I guess. That I’m liking this.”

Mark started to glance down along with Jack and stopped himself. His eyes snapped back to Jack’s face with a flicker of terror. “I- I can’t. I can’t look, I can’t see Jack I’m… I’m sorry. I can’t.” His next inhale was a little rough. “I’m… I’m so happy you’re enjoying this. I _am._ But if I try to see it for myself I’m just going to panic again. I’m sorry.” He hesitantly combed his fingertips up the back of Jack’s hair.

“It’s okay, Mark, it’s okay.” Jack rubbed his thumb over Mark’s cheek again, then closed his eyes and leaned back a little into the touch of Mark’s fingers. “You don’t have to look. I’ll try… I’ll try to show you other ways? And…” Jack licked his lips, cracking his eyes open to look at Mark. “You wanted… you wanted _me_ to… kiss you? Here?”

Jack moved his other hand from Mark’s arm to his chest, touching a scar that cut across his collarbone. Now that they were both shirtless and Jack had been given permission, he could really _look_ at Mark’s chest, see all the healed injuries that still marked his gold skin. He looked so much _better_ than when he’d been in that room, in the hospital. Jack had to smile at the obvious improvement. “ _God_ , Mark, can I?”

Mark gave a little nod of affirmation. He was still smoothing his hands along Jack’s torso. He slid his palms down the flat of Jack’s stomach. “I don’t know, Jack, can you?”

Mark’s tone was clearly teasing as his gaze swept down Jack’s belly. “Kidding. You can, Jack, but only if you tell me why the heck you’ve been hiding the fact you’re an outie from me for all these years.” Mark prodded at the little jut of Jack’s belly button and released a soft snort.

Jack stuck his tongue out at Mark, scrunching up his face. “It’s not like I was _hiding_ it anymore than you hid you were an innie.” He gave Mark’s belly button an answering poke, shifting a little closer up Mark’s side. “I’m just only mainly visible chest-up, and I wear shirts. Oh my _gawd_ , the horror!”

Mark giggled “A true crime.”

Jack giggled a little himself, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the scar he’d just touched across Mark’s collarbone. This one was thin and smooth, and Jack suddenly recalled a picture with a knife and a delicate line of blood across Mark’s skin. His heart twisted, and he traced his tongue down the mark, recreating how it was created, only with love and affection instead of malice. He wanted to heal every last one of Mark’s scars. He knew he couldn’t.

Mark was trembling all over again. As Jack continued to kiss against his chest, Mark moaned. It was soft and weak and oh so fragile but still a moan all the same. He kept his hands on Jack, squeezing at Jack’s waist, then up to rub at his biceps and back to tap fingers along Jack’s spine. His hands kept moving, roving over Jack’s skin as Jack’s mouth caressed Mark’s.

“If you need me to stop,” Jack told Mark, looking up from his chest, “just let me know.” And then he dipped his head down again, finding another scar, this one wider and jagged and dusted over with soft kisses.

“S.. same to you, though….”

Jack closed his eyes, pressing his mouth tight against Mark’s ribs as he felt the other man’s moan. He swallowed his own response, and then belatedly realized that maybe he shouldn’t have. Maybe he should have kept to his character and been loud and noisy, let Mark know that he was enjoying this just as much.

 _Next time,_ Jack promised himself. He let his back arch against Mark’s touch, murmuring happily at the caresses down his spine even as he chased the lines across Mark’s skin. This was an old burn, here was a kick, these were from a whip. Jack kissed and licked and nuzzled, fast growing addicted to the feel of Mark’s skin beneath his mouth. Down Mark’s chest, across his belly, back up the other side, Jack didn’t let a single scar go unloved.

Jack groaned as Mark dragged nails along his back, squirming lightly as his dick definitely appreciated the action. Mark was touching and squeezing and fondling him, giving little whines and whimpers and shifting beneath him, and it was all Jack could do to keep his body to the side and not readjust so he could grind down against Mark’s leg.

He brought his hand in, holding Mark’s side gently, squeezing and rubbing and trying not to _contain_ Mark. His other hand was being used to support his weight as he leaned over Mark’s body, following a slice up his ribs and curling toward a dark nipple. Jack hesitated, his eyes cracked open as he studied the sensitive flesh, then glanced up at Mark’s face again. _Could he?_

Mark looked down with obvious confusion. “J-Jack?” His voice had become higher pitched and breathy in his arousal. He turned pink when he realized what Jack was waiting for. His lips thinned and, eventually, gave a short nod.

When Mark nodded at him, Jack offered his boyfriend a bright smile and ducked down to press a kiss to Mark’s right nipple.

Mark gave a little gasp and squeezed tighter at Jack’s love handles. _“Oh.”_

Nipples were _just_ skin. Sensitive skin, but skin nonetheless. There was nothing scary about kissing Mark’s nipple, nothing scarier than kissing at his back or belly. Jack had done this before with his past girlfriends, plenty of times. He circled kisses around the perky nub, then pressed his mouth over it fully, letting his tongue press against the sensitive flesh. He kissed and licked, sucking lightly. Doing this to Mark...it was different than doing it with a woman. Mark’s chest was broad and flat, his muscle not nearly as malleable as a breast, his groans definitely resonating deeper from his chest...and yet it still was driving Jack wild. He was driving _Mark_ wild, making him cry and twist in all the very _best_ ways, and he wanted more, so much more. Jack flicked the tip of his tongue over Mark’s nipple, blowing gently before covering it with his mouth and sucking again. He lifted his hand from Mark’s side, seeking out Mark’s neglected nipple to roll it between his fingers.

Beside Mark, Jack was pressing his hips into the bed, trying not to hump too obviously. The last thing he wanted was to scare Mark off again with his own erection. Not when Mark had come so far already, opening up beneath Jack, shirtless and moaning and hopefully so very hard himself.

 _“Ah!”_ Mark gave a breathy little moan. He wiggled a bit and pressed into Jack’s mouth, dragging nails harder up Jack’s back before digging them into his shoulders with a vice-like grip as he sucked in tight, excited breaths. “Jack, Jack, _Jack…._ ” Mark’s hips were starting to shift, and he whined at the back of his throat.  “Jack, Jack, that’s so good…. I-it’s… hnnn… What.. wh-what can I do? I want… want you to feel good, t-too. I do. I want… to help you….”

Mark _liked_ having his nipples played with. Jack made a mental note as he sucked on Mark’s chest, pressing his lips tight and tugging again at the sensitive flesh. Jack liked it too. _Twisty-fresh._ His own nipples were a fun erogenous zone, as past girlfriends had found out. Jack had accidentally acquired a habit of rubbing at them even when he was just sitting around or recording a video. It was almost like a slightly-more socially acceptable version of a good scratch to the balls. Only slightly more acceptable, though. Jack had managed to incorporate it into his YouTube persona, though, so he could get away with it at conventions. Not that he’d ever actually explained any of that to his YouTube friends. To them, it was just an odd tic he had.

Mark was starting to fidget and buck off the bed, and Jack grinned against his damp chest. Mark was _really_ enjoying this attention, and that was the proof Jack needed without looking between Mark’s legs. Mark’s whines and breathless whispers were music in his ears, and Jack shivered.

“Mark, _anything._ ” Jack pulled off Mark’s chest to glance up at him as he answered, drinking in the beautiful flush to Mark’s face, how wide his eyes were, the way his mouth hung open. “Anything you do is perfect, anything you want to do. Even this.” Jack’s fingers found the wet, abandoned nipple, rolling it to make Mark whine again. His breath stuttered, and he circled his hips again. “I love hearing you, I love feeling you fall apart beneath me like this… I want you to touch yourself.” _I want to touch you._ “Could you do that? Could you show me how you cum? Can I…” Jack closed his eyes, then lifted himself up to press a kiss to his lips. “Not… you don’t have to strip or anything like that. Just like this, like you can do at night now, but just...without the blankets. Or the lights off. I just...I want to see your face. I want to _see_ how you shiver, not just feel it in my arms. Can you… can _we_ do that? I won’t look down...unless you want me to. I promise.” _I want to see you. All of you. I want to feel you with my whole body, feel you fall apart against my skin. I want to cum in your hands, your mouth, across your skin. I want to mark you as mine. I want to be marked as yours. Please, Mark, please, make me yours…_

Mark whined and dragged Jack closer by the hips. He licked anxiously at his lips, looking up at Jack. “I trust you. I love you. And… and you can touch me, but… s-safe spots. Okay?”

Jack nodded his understanding as he met Mark’s eyes, watching the fear flicker briefly in those dark depths before being squashed down. He kissed Mark again and again, whispering his love and praise into Mark’s mouth. “Do you… do you want me to keep doing what I was?” he asked breathlessly, letting his hands skim up Mark’s sides but avoiding his nipples. Did they count as safe? Jack had just been sucking on them, but they weren’t someplace he could touch everyday without asking, like Mark’s fingers or his back.

Mark was so beautiful giving in to Jack’s request. His hand moved slowly, eyes fluttering from the effort. Jack didn’t need to look down to know when Mark had cupped himself, his breath catching in his throat as that first wave of bliss washed over Mark’s face. The soft noises Mark was making were racing through Jack’s blood, setting his body on fire. He wanted to touch himself, wanted to rut against Mark’s thigh, align their cocks and grind down and _no no no, hold back, hold back for him..._

Jack pressed his mouth to Mark’s chin again, to his jaw, kissed at his beard and neck. His fingers skimmed over the scars on Mark’s chest and sides but he didn’t linger on any, kept stroking like he had done that first night, pressing into the tense muscles and trying to urge out the stress. “I love you, Mark, I love you, so much, you’re so amazing, Mark, Mark…” Intelligent dialogue was thrown out the window. It was all Jack could do to keep remembering the two most important words, Mark’s name and _love_ , pressed into his skin with every kiss.

Mark shook his head. “Just… just h-hold me, I need… you’re my anchor, Jack, my- nnngh- m-my everything, here… n-now… ahh… _fuck._ ” He hissed, clenching his jaw, and then wiggled his hand further down. Mark tilted his head, letting Jack kiss at his jaw and neck. His own lips found the ridge of Jack’s ear. “Jack, Jack… I love you, I love you Jack, so much… so much, please, keep touching me… keep grounding me, k-keep… keep loving me, please, I need….” His body gave a complete shudder in Jack’s arms.

“Always, always, I’m here, I’ve got you…” Jack kissed his way back to Mark’s mouth, stealing kisses and pulling back to watch his face, to watch Mark fall apart just like he wanted. This, _this_ was how it was supposed to be, how _Mark_ was supposed to be, hot and heavy in Jack’s arms, solid against his chest, shivering and moaning and _happy_. Jack kept his arms around Mark’s sides as Mark stroked himself, leaning in for another kiss, and another.

It was beautiful. _Mark_ was beautiful. It took those images Jack had of Mark in that room, his fingers curled around his erection, pain and shame on his face, it took those images and _shredded_ them, threw them out the window of Jack’s mind and replaced them with something better. _So_ much better. Jack’s mind and heart and body all agreed. This Mark was the best Mark he’d ever seen. He loved him. He loved him _so fucking much_ it hurt, it hurt in his pants, in his chest, his heart.

“Jack….” Mark’s whine was swallowed up by Jack’s mouth as he kissed him again, and again. His words were breathless and slurred as he worked himself higher and higher. “Jack… Jack, I want… I w-want you to… t-to touch yourself, I…. N-not… don’t take it out. Just… don’t take it out, please, but… but I want you to… I w-want you to cum, too. I do. I want… to s-see you, mnnngh…. _Sean…._ ” He whimpered Jack’s name, slumping in Jack’s grasp while his body viciously trembled.

Every time Jack thought Mark had pushed himself to his limits, Mark came back and surprised him. His eyes snapped to Mark’s at those words, surprise and desire and _yessss_ warring within him. “A-are you sure?” Jack asked his own voice straining beneath a suppressed whine. “Are you...Mark…?”

Oh, he wanted to. He _wanted_ to, wanted to reach down and take himself in hand, to get off with Mark _right here_ , here in his arms, moaning and shivering and kissing him, kissing him for real and not just in memories behind closed eyes in a cold bathroom.

Mark clumsily nodded. He was asking for it. Asking for _him_. Jack pressed their mouths together, kissing Mark desperately as he worked one hand away from Mark’s chest. His fingers trailed over Mark’s side and then across the gap between their bodies, finding and pressing against the bulge between his legs, his erection pushing against his pajama pants. _Don’t take it out. Just touch. Just touch…_ Jack worked his fingers up his length, hissing his pleasure against Mark’s lips, before slowly reaching up further to press beneath the waistband of his pants and take himself in hand with a heavy moan. “God, Mark...Jesus…”

 _“Fuck.”_ Mark tossed his free arm around Jack’s neck to pull him closer. He leaned down to press his cheek against Jack’s shoulder, dragging his tongue along Jack’s pulse. His hand was working fervently where Jack couldn’t watch, and Mark groaned low and deep in his chest. “G… gonna… mnngh… cl-close… so close, Jack, fffww _please…._ ”

Jack shuddered in Mark’s arms, closing his eyes as he felt Mark’s tongue against his neck. He palmed the head of his dick, smearing precum across his skin before stroking down over the shaft. Oh, he was not going to last long, not with Mark groaning against his throat, still in his arm, practically pressed against him as they jacked off together. Jack’s fingers dug into Mark’s hips as he whispered his boyfriend’s name. Mark was there, right there, filling all his senses. He could feel Mark’s skin beneath his fingers, still taste him on his lips. Mark’s scent flooded his lungs with every breath, and his whimpers and cries were the most beautiful music in Jack’s ears. All he had to do was open his eyes to see Mark, to see that dark head bent against his skin, that bright flush working its way down his chest.

“I love you,” Jack gasped, letting his hand work over his cock. He _did_ force his eyes open, forced himself to look down, to watch Mark huddling into his shoulder as best he could. “Mark, nngh, I love you, so much, I love you like this, please, please...you can...whenever you’re ready, you can cum, don’t stop, please don’t stop, wanna see you…”

“Love you, love you, love you, Jack, Jack, _Sean…!_ ” Mark choked out. “Y-you too… you too, you too Jack, Jack… y-you… _ahhhfff-fuck…._ ”

Mark’s grip was tight around Jack’s neck, but he was mercifully not cutting off anything important. Jack could still breathe, and he was fairly sure the light-headedness was from all his blood being in his dick, not because Mark was squeezing an artery or something. He gasped as Mark came beneath him, all his muscles going tense before he collapsed absolutely limp against the pillows. Jack groaned at the sight of Mark’s sated face, working his own hand faster over his dick. “Mark… god, you’re _gorgeous…_ fuck…” He squeezed Mark’s hip, then swept his hand up, stroking across Mark’s abs and chest, loving how completely loose Mark was right now.

“Jack….” Mark shivered and stared into Jack’s eyes. The hand not still buried in his pants slid back up to cradle Jack’s scalp against his palm.

Jack stared back at Mark, panting, dimly aware of the world around him. Mostly, he just felt overwhelmingly lucky, lucky to have Mark so near, touching him, _looking_ at him, with those dark eyes, that wondrous expression, like Jack was some rich treasure that _Mark_ couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch...and oh god, Mark’s hand was in his hair now, fingers sliding over his scalp, and Jack had to squeeze his dick hard to keep from coming immediately. He groaned at the caress, deep and low, his eyes fluttering shut, leaning toward Mark involuntarily.

Mark was talking, talking to him, asking a question...trust? Tongue, Jack had a tongue, he could use it… “God, Mark, _yes_ , yes, of course I trust you, I always trust you, please... “ And too much tongue. Jack bit off his words before he could ask Mark for something Mark couldn’t give him, forcing his eyes open to look at the other man again. Was Mark going to be okay if he came like this, crouched half over Mark, his hand shoved down his pants? He didn’t want to stop, not now, not when he was so close… but did Mark need him to get away before he let go of the last shreds of his control? That wasn’t going to happen. Jack wasn’t going to be able to get off this bed in his current state, short of flopping onto the floor and bruising at least his ego. But he didn’t want Mark to pull away either... _please, Mark, please say you can think better than me right now god please please…_

Mark kept carding his fingers through Jack’s hair. “Good.” Mark cradled Jack’s head again and pulled him forward for another kiss. It was tender and passionate, conveying all of Mark’s love. Mark kissed him, pulling at his lips, then broke away with a soft “smack”. He traced the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip and pressed the tips of his fingers into Jack’s scalp. He stared into Jack’s eyes and dropped his voice to the deepest part of his register. “Sean….”

Mark leaned in, dodging past Jack’s face and hovered next to his ear. Mark purred into it, his voice dripping with sex from his recent orgasm. “You can do it, Sean. There’s nothing to hold you back. Whenever you’re ready, you can cum. You can let go…. It’s okay. You can cum, Sean. You can do it. _Cum for me._ ” Mark tightened his grip on Jack’s hair.

 _Jesus fucking Christ!_ Mark’s voice shot straight to Jack’s dick, and the tug to his hair completely _shattered_ what little self-control Jack was managing to cling to. He grabbed Mark’s side, clinging to him as the other man yanked him over the edge. _Cum for me,_ Mark’s voice rumbled, and Jack was powerless to disobey. His whole body spasmed with the force of his orgasm, a wordless yelp ripping itself from his chest.

_Oh God…_

Jack couldn’t see, he couldn’t see _anything_ , his orgasm had knocked him blind, oh god..oh, wait, no his eyes were closed. Mm. Heh. Jack felt completely weightless, floating in the darkness behind his eyelids, an altogether stupid smile slack across his lips. He was grounded only by Mark’s hand in his hair, Mark’s skin beneath his fingers...mmm, should probably unclench? Unclench, yeah...oh, Jack wondered idly if he’d left bruises...Jack let his hand fall away from Mark’s side, his other hand still buried in his pants. He had collapsed beside Mark, his head pillowed on Mark’s shoulder. Jack mouthed Mark’s name and went back to grinning like a complete loon. Best. Orgasm. _Ever._

Mark jerked away from Jack. “No, no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, that was fucked up. That was _so fucked up_ Jack, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… please, no, no, no….”

Jack forced his eyes open as Mark spoke, his blissed-out happiness being chased away by the darkness in Mark’s voice. “M’rk?” He pushed himself up and reached out for his boyfriend, but he stopped before he touched him. Mark was curled away, every inch of his body language screaming his distress and panic. Touch could be bad right now. “Mark, Mark, it’s okay, I’m okay, it’s _okay_. It’s good, Mark, it was all good, please look at me? Please, Mark?” Jack laid down again, making himself stay low and open, trying to be as inviting as possible if Mark did turn over. “I love you, Mark, I do. I promise. Please look at me?”

Mark shook his head. “No, no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry Jack, Jack, oh fuck I fucked up, I fucked up so bad I can’t believe I… and you… it’s…. _Fuck,_ I’m messed up, I’m terrible Jack I should never have done that I didn’t even think, I…”

“What… _how_?” Jack asked. He lifted his hand again. “Mark, I’m gonna touch your shoulder, okay? Just your shoulder.” Slowly he brushed his fingers over Mark’s shoulder, needing the contact. He didn’t dare touch Mark’s exposed back though. Not with that _SM_ so obvious across his spine. Not now. “How did you fuck up, Mark? I don’t think you fucked up. I don’t think anything went wrong there.” Until the end, of course, but that much was obvious.

Mark kept trembling, his voice a stifled, stuttering jumble as he kept himself turned from Jack. “I sh-shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have _said_ that. I shouldn’t… shouldn’t have made you cum like that. It was wrong. I didn’t even… didn’t even _ask._ If you were ready. O-or if you wanted to, I just… I just _did it_ and that was wrong, Jack. I did that _wrong_ I did it the same way _they_ would have and I’m so, so sorry….”

“Mark, you did _not_ do what they would have done.” Jack inched a little closer to Mark, keeping just the barest of gaps between their bodies. Mark was warm, and Jack wanted to wrap his arms around the other man and just hold him, hug him, squeeze away all of Mark’s despair. He didn’t. “You didn’t… you didn’t _make_ me do anything I didn’t want to. That I wasn’t ready for. You _didn’t_ , Mark…”

Was this how every sexual escapade going to go from now on? It seemed like whenever they tried something new, Mark dropped more hints as to what he’d suffered through in that room, new forms of verbal abuse those monsters had done to him. Jack wanted to cry. He didn’t. He squeezed his despair down with his horror, to be dug out and flushed out tomorrow, alone in the privacy of the shower

“You don’t _know_ that.” Mark countered with a force. “Did you cum because you _wanted_ to, or because I _told_ you to? If I did that again, could you stop yourself? I… I thought it would be good, I thought it’d make you happy, and it did, but it was _wrong._ There were better ways I could’ve done it but I didn’t a-and the worst part is I _enjoyed_ it. I enjoyed t-telling you what to do and how you did it for me and… god _fuck…._ ”

“ _Mark…_ ” Jack squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. How the _fuck_ was he supposed to snap Mark out of this? It wasn’t really a _panic_ , per se. Talking softly or singing wouldn’t be enough. Mark had some very bad ideas ingrained in his head if he was comparing what they had just done to what those bastards had.

An idea came to Jack, prodding at sleepy synapses in his brain, and Jack ran his hand along Mark’s shoulder, then across his back. There were shallow scars here, four of them, the scrape of jagged nails across vulnerable skin. Jack pressed his hand gently over the marks, covering them with his own fingers. “Mark… are you scared I’m going to hurt you right now? Right here?”

Mark shivered. “N-no… no, of course not. I know… know you wouldn’t hurt me, Jack.”

“But Mark… what’s the difference?” Jack dragged his hand down, tracing the scars with his own fingers, as slow and gentle as he could manage. “Between this and what they did? Aren’t they, at their core, exactly the same thing? A hand, fingers, connecting with your back?”

 _Please don’t let this trigger him…_ Jack closed his other hand into a fist, still secure in his cum-stained pants. He squeezed tightly, trying to let out his nerves there instead of against Mark’s skin. _Please let this work…_

“What’s the…” Mark finally turned his head to shoot Jack an incredulous, dumbfounded look. His hand was covering his mouth as if to prevent himself from saying anymore nasty things. “ _No._ No, that’s not… that doesn’t m-make sense, Jack. You aren’t tearing my skin open with your nails. That’s not the same.”

“What you did and what they did are as different as this touch and that tear,” Jack said quietly, lifting his gaze to meet Mark’s eyes. There was no joking in his voice, no light-hearted quips hiding beneath the tone. This was _serious_ , and he needed Mark to know that he meant it. “At their core, they are exactly the same, but in every way that actually matters, they are _entirely different._ Were you trying to hurt me, Mark? Humiliate me? Make me feel used and filthy?”

Mark was looking at him now, snapped out of his self-loathing to try to bolster Jack, and that was just the opening Jack needed. Jack rubbed his finger along the first scar. “Or were you trying to make me feel good? Happy? Loved?"

“That’s not…” Mark tried to argue. “I…” His fingers twitched and fidgeted over his mouth. “N.. no… no, of course not. O-of course I wouldn’t, I’d never… I’d _never_ want you to go through what I did. I’d never hurt you, Jack.”

Mark’s gaze dropped. “I wanted… I _wanted_ to help you. I wanted to make you happy; I wanted to let you feel what I felt just then. I didn’t want you to have to leave like the last time. I didn’t want you to be nervous you’d trigger me if you… if you got to feel good. But it still feels like I was wrong. I should’ve gone about it a different way. I shouldn’t have just pushed my way in and.. and told you to get off like that.”

“ _Mark._ ” Jack pressed his hand against Mark’s back again, then lifted his fingers to Mark’s cheek, tracing a gentle touch beneath his dark eye. “Mark, what you did was a caress. What they did was a tear. It’s the same thing, but it’s _completely_ different. And I did say you could. I said _anything_ , Mark, as long as we’re not recording. I gave you my consent--and don’t think for a moment I couldn’t have, _wouldn’t_ have stopped you if you did something I didn’t want or wasn’t comfortable with. You didn’t force an orgasm on me, Mark. I chose it. I promise. I trusted you. I gave you my consent. I _still_ trust you. You _still_ have my consent. And you are still absolutely _nothing_ like them.”

Mark leaned into Jack’s touch. "You just looked so happy... You looked like a weight had been taken off, like you've been waiting years for that to happen... A-and I couldn't do anything else, so I used my voice and my hands and your hair it's... so goddamn soft, it shouldn't be legal. And I loved all the sounds you were making; you were beautiful, Jack. Still are but then I thought of them, and what they did and it just became tainted and I was so sure I'd fucked up. Th-that I'd become like them and crossed a line without even thinking and I just couldn't l-live with myself... Jack..."

"I love your voice, and your touch, and your hands in my hair..." Jack murmured, shifting to close the gap between them. He didn’t press against Mark, but he did finally let their bodies touch, their legs brushing together, his chest against Mark’s back. "Mark...you're my boyfriend, right? We already decided that? That we're trying this?"

“Right…Yeah… yeah, we did….” Mark pressed his face into Jack’s hand.

Mark wasn't turning away from Jack's touch, quite the opposite, so Jack cupped his face a little more fully, rubbing his thumb up Mark's cheekbone. "That makes us _partners_. We’re together in this, for better or worse. And I love you. I _love_ you, Mark. I love you, and I want you to keep healing. That’s _why_ I gave you my blanket consent. If there’s something you want to do, just do it. Or ask me, and I'll do it. And if I don't want to do it, if it makes me uncomfortable or I'm not in the mood, I'll tell you. I'll stop you, Mark, I promise. I _promise_. It's just...It's harder to trigger me than it is to trigger you right now, so let me worry about what's too much for me, and you just worry about what feels good. What makes you feel good, or happy. You loved the sounds I made? Then keep making me make them. I'll let you know if you find a line. I promise." Jack leaned closer, brushing the tip of his nose against Mark's. " _I promise,_ " he whispered.

“...all I do is make everything more difficult. It shouldn’t be so complicated. _You_ shouldn’t have to worry either. I should be able to grab you, and kiss you stupid without even hesitating but I can’t, and it’s not fair. I know we went over the fairness thing already but it’s _not,_ Jack.” Mark’s voice gained a hint of a despaired whine. “I h-hate how I’m like glass with you. You just mean so much to me…. I don’t ever- _ever-_ want to fuck that up….” He’d stopped trembling but now his voice shook with the emotion instead as he stared Jack down. “...you promise to tell me even if I’m really into it? Or if I need it? You’ll tell me to stop? You’ll be able to _make_ me stop if I go too far?”

"And that's precisely _why_ I don't want you to hold yourself back," Jack murmured. "When you're feeling it, I want you to act on it. Revel in it. But I do promise. If it's not good for me too, I'll let you know. I'll rein you in, just like I do if you're going too far into bad head space." Jack needed to kiss Mark. He chanced it, leaning in to brush their lips together briefly. It wasn't everything he wanted, but it was better than nothing. "I won't let you hurt me. I'm not...I'm not so completely enthralled by your amazing good looks that I'll let you walk all over me, Mark, don't worry."

The hand resting over Mark’s mouth fell to press at Jack’s knee. "...o-okay... okay... I believe you... I do. I'm sorry, I..." His voice was tiny and quiet when he spoke again; needy. "...can you kiss me again? Please?"

“Of course,” Jack murmured, running his thumb over Mark’s cheek. “Wanna roll over so you’re not so twisted around first?” He lifted his hand to let Mark turn over, but then he was snuggling up close again, cupping Mark’s face and bringing their mouths together. He took his time to savor the kiss, closing his eyes and fighting his instinct to suppress his happy little hum as their lips slid against each other. Mark liked hearing Jack's noises? Then Jack would try not to stifle them. He did love kissing Mark. So much.

Jack didn't want to pull away, but eventually he had to, forcing himself back in stages, stealing shorter and shorter kisses from Mark's too-tempting mouth until he could get some space between them. "God, I love you," he whispered, forcing his eyes open.

"Same," Mark breathed.

"But, mmm, you wanted to know when I'm uncomfortable? I think my hand is stuck to my dick." Jack kissed his smile against Mark's cheek. “I have to wash up. Do you…?” Mark probably was having the same problem Jack was, with both of them keeping one hand in their pants. Jack blinked, and then started to giggle. He couldn’t help it. It was just too ridiculous.

Mark wheezed out a breathless chuckle at Jack's comments and shook his head a little. “Jack. I believe _my_ hand is _also_ stuck to _my_ dick. As in, _really_ sticky. Grossly sticky. Eugh. _Eugh,_ Jack. I need new pants. _You_ need new pants. Let’s… let’s go get new pants. And some soapy water. _It’s getting cold._ ” He whispered the last as if it was the most horrifying concept on Earth.

“Because I love you,” Jack whispered, leaning in to kiss Mark’s cheek with a grin, “you can have the bathroom first. And I won’t even watch your waddle of shame out the door.”

“You’re literally the best boyfriend _ever_ in the history of fucking _forever._ Also good, ‘cause if you did I was just gonna watch _you_ waddle out and compare you to an Irish duck.” Mark pulled himself away from Jack and managed to get to his feet with one hand still down his pants. He wiggled his legs, his face twisted in disgust. _“Nasty.”_

Jack pulled his hand out of his pants after Mark left the room, grimacing as he unstuck his hand from his dick. He tried to clean it off as best he could with some tissues and grabbed fresh pants from his drawer before Mark came back.

Mark returned and hopped into his side of the bed with a happy, contented sigh. “All clean. Hope that stuff hasn’t solidified on your dick or anything. Go scrape it off. I’ll wait for you.”

“I was very tempted to wipe it off on your pillow,” Jack informed Mark, “but that best boyfriend in the history of fucking forever award is a pretty cool honor, and I didn’t think I could keep it _and_ use your pillow.” He grinned at Mark, then made his awkward way to the bathroom himself.

“Truly the very _best_ of boyfriends.”

When Jack made it back to the bedroom, he felt better for being clean. He climbed into bed and immediately snuggled up against Mark’s side. “Hey,” he murmured, sliding an arm around Mark’s back. “Guess what.”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.” Jack giggled a little, tucking his cheek against Mark’s shoulder. “ _So fucking much._ You have no idea. I could spend the rest of my life trying to show you how much I love you, and you still won’t get it.” Jack gave a happy little sigh and squeezed his arm around Mark. “Good night, Mark.”

“...fucking nerd.” Mark sighed, but emitted a few soft giggles of his own. “I love you too. Sorry I’ve got such a thick head. I promise I’m getting some of it in there….” He nuzzled his nose down into Jack’s hair and just breathed for a few seconds. “G’night, Jack….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	43. Day 213: 40th Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole McLoughlin clan shows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not know most of the McLoughlin names and I didn't want to go full-stalker, so I have tried to limit their information to what Jack or his writer brother commonly share publicly.

Jack looked over and squeezed Mark’s hand. This was his first actual _car_ ride since Mark was released from the hospital. The difference was amazing. Mark wasn’t scared of the seatbelt or the confined space. He was even fine with the driver of their cab, a complete stranger to them both. There were bigger things to be nervous about tonight.

This wasn’t Mark’s first foray into the outside world either. Their nightly runs had expanded into daytime expeditions into Athlone proper, with Mark joining Jack on shopping trips, Starbuck runs, and one meal (it had been McDonalds, and Mark had made fun of how different it tasted from American McDonalds). Jack was slowly building up Mark’s public confidence again, though he still handled most of the interactions with other people. Just getting Mark used to crowds and getting out of the house again was good.

Tonight was Mark’s biggest test, though. Tonight, they were going to a party.

In honor of Jack’s parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary, Jack’s siblings had all banded together to throw them a party. All five of the McLoughlin children were in town, along with all of the grandchildren. Jack couldn’t possibly miss the celebration, and he had extended an invitation to Mark. _It’s gonna be overwhelming,_ he had apologized. _We’re...loud. And there’s a lot of us. But it’s_ ** _just_** _us, just my family, we booked a private room at the restaurant. You can stay home if you’d like some time to yourself._

Mark had eagerly accepted the invitation. He had been curious about Jack’s family for a while, and this was the best opportunity to meet them all. They all knew about him, after all, Jack’s kidnapped friend who was staying with him as he recovered. They _all_ knew about the torture.

They didn’t know that Mark was now Jack’s boyfriend.

To be honest, that was what was worrying Jack the most. His siblings were pretty cool with his YouTube life, and his parents were supportive and proud, but his father… his father had been excessively worried about the whole ‘Septiplier’ thing when Mark was kidnapped, and Jack had repeatedly reassured his father that Mark was _not_ his boyfriend, they were _not_ dating, and Jack was _not_ gay. At the time, it had been true. Now…?

They weren’t out, and this technically counted as public, so they would continue on as if they were only friends. Jack’s nieces and nephews were all fans of YouTube and were too young to be trusted with secrets like that. At the same time, Jack would be giving Mark a lot of physical attention tonight, holding his hand and staying close to him to keep him grounded. It was sure to raise his father’s eyebrows, at least, and god, if his dad came up to Mark and started grilling him…

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” Jack rubbed his thumb over Mark’s knuckles, looking his boyfriend over. Mark looked _good_ in his slacks and button-down, with a vest over the top.. Completely edible. They had both dressed up a bit for the party, and Jack was trying hard not to think about how much he’d rather be at home watching Mark pull his clothes off, leaning in to steal a thousand kisses as they rolled around in bed together…

He needed to stop those thoughts before he saw his dad. Or his brothers. Or his _sisters_ , for that matter. They’d all take one look at him and know exactly what he was thinking. Curse of being the baby. He could never get away with anything.

Mark looked back to Jack with a surprised expression that rapidly dissolved into a warm, reassuring smile. He returned the hand squeeze and nodded. “I’ll be okay, Jack. Promise. We’ve already gone over what to do a hundred times. I _want_ to meet your family. I always have. But especially now that we’re… y’know. It’s important. Even if they don’t know about it yet.” Mark licked at his lips and gave another squeeze of Jack’s hand. “Besides, it’ll be good practice. Gotta get used to crowds and public places again….”

Jack smiled at Mark. He had come _so far_ since that first day leaving the hospital. “I just feel bad. We can be overwhelming even in the best circumstances. It would have been easier to meet them one at a time, like I did with Tom, than everyone at the same time, but…”

But this was a party, and the Irish loved any excuse to get together and celebrate. There would be alcohol flowing like water and endless food and music and dancing, and it was one of the rare times when the entire McLoughlin clan descended on the same place as one. Mark would have no better opportunity to meet Jack’s family, and if Mark was going to be Jack’s boyfriend, Jack wanted him to at least _know_ his family, even if his family didn’t know the truth yet.

“Don’t feel bad about how your family is. Under normal circumstances, I’d love them no problem. And even after what’s happened, I’ll _still_ probably love them. If they’re anything like you, how could I not? I won’t always get to choose. I won’t always have an out, once I’m back in L.A. I need this, Jack. It’ll be okay.”

Jack took a deep breath and squeezed Mark’s hand again. They were just going to alternate reassurances all the way to the restaurant. “Remember, if you need a break, just let me know. No one will be upset. They’ll understand.” Jack wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that Mark’s first real party experience was with an entire family who knew _exactly_ what Mark had gone through, and who hadn’t forgotten, because it had touched their family directly. On the one hand, they would all understand and hopefully not ask bad questions of Mark. On the other hand… they would all look at him and _know_.

Mark glanced up at the cab driver before interlocking their fingers. “I know. Trust me, I’ll say something. I’d rather duck out of there and leave them wondering then have a full break down in the middle of a crowded restaurant. Just… watch for any signs I might be too caught up to miss. Okay?”

“We did reserve a private room,” Jack said, “so if you have a breakdown, it’ll just be in front of my family and maybe some waiters.” He rubbed his palm against Mark’s, grateful for the additional contact. “I’ll keep an eye out for you, don’t worry. You won’t have a breakdown. You’ll do just fine.”

“Well, I guess that’s better than a whole room full of strangers.” Mark took a few deep breaths.

The restaurant was one of the nicest ones in Athlone. Jack pulled his hand away from Mark’s to climb out of the cab and pay the driver. He waited for Mark to join him, offering his hand if Mark wanted it. Yes, they were in public, but if they didn’t link their fingers together, it wasn’t _that_ gay. Jack’s family would understand (or at least would once Jack explained that it was for Mark’s support).

Mark strode forward and took the offered hand. He let out the breath he’d been holding. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“You got this, Mark,” Jack murmured, squeezing Mark’s hand and then heading to the door.

“ _Jaaaack!_ ” The McLoughlin clan pounced as soon as they stepped inside, with Jack’s oldest sister sweeping him into a hug and ruffling up his hair. Jack kept a firm grasp on Mark’s hand as they were thrust from sibling to partner, introducing each family member to Mark as they were swept into the reserved room.

His mother came bustling over, hugging Jack tight and then doing the same to Mark, the first of the McLoughlins to do more than offer a handshake. She was a petit woman, clearly the cause for Jack’s shortness, but she was soft and laughing. Jack sucked in a breath when she grabbed Mark without even asking, but Mark remained calm (albeit awkwardly stiff), and his mother released him quickly.

“Ah, ye must be the poor wee American! So good to meet you, Mark, after all Jackaboy rambled about you!”

“Maaa!” Jack squeezed Mark’s hand, a bit of a flush to his face, but his mother just laughed, clearly in her element, surrounded by her family.

“And here I thought ye Americans were supposed ta be giants! And fat! Goes to show what we know!”

“Oh my god we’re walking away now…”

“Sorry to wreck your expectations, Mrs. McLoughlin. It’s nice meeting you!” Mark managed a little wave as Jack dragged him off to a slightly quieter corner of the room. Mark immediately released a tense sigh once they were away from most of the McLoughlins. “What have you been telling her?? ‘Giant’? Hope you haven’t been embellishing my features to your fam, Jack.”

“I never told her you were a giant!” Jack protested. “She just thinks all Americans are like that. I am so sorry. She’s… we definitely all get our enthusiasm from her.”

“She seems like a lovely lady. Beyond the ridiculous stereotyping.” Mark assured Jack with a little nod.

“That’s my dad.” Jack gestured to a taller man at the man table, holding a toddler in his arms. “And one of my nieces. I have… six now? Nieces and nephews. And, _ah_!”

“Uncle Jack!” A little boy with a strong French accent ran up, tackling Jack around the waist and squeezing tightly. “Uncle Jack, you came, you came! Papa said you’d be here, but…” He glanced over at Mark and immediately the words died in his throat, an all too familiar starstruck expression filling his face. He meeped a little, wiggling around to put Jack’s body between himself and Mark.

“Uncle Jack, is that… _Markiplier!?_ ”

Jack was chuckling, hugging the boy back and ruffling up _his_ hair. “Yeah, Dylan, this is my friend Mark. Markiplier. Mark, this is my best nephew Dylan, but don’t tell the others that. Shh. Secret.” Jack touched a finger to his lips and winked. Dylan giggled against Jack’s side. “He’s… Malcolm’s son.” Jack pointed out his brother (who had already met Mark), once he spotted him on the other side of the room. “ _And_ he’s an avid YouTube enthusiast who has watched, I believe, every single Markiplier video?”

“Jacksepticeye is the best YouTuber,” Dylan informed Mark, still half-hidden behind his uncle. “But Markiplier is the best not related to me!”

“He’s not biased at all.”

Mark dropped into a crouch so he could be on Dylan’s level. “Promise I won’t tell anyone you’re Jack’s best nephew. It’s the least I can do for a fan. Gotta say I agree with ya, though. Jacksepticeye _is_ the best YouTuber I know.” He shot Jack a cheeky little glance before focusing on Dylan again. “But it’s great to meet you, Dylan. Jack should’ve told me one of his nephews liked my videos so much. Don’t be too nervous around me, okay? I swear I don’t bite or anything. You can ask Jack; I’m really just a big teddy bear.”

Dylan looked up at Jack, who shook his head. “Mark bites me _all the time,_ ” he said dead-pan. Instead of scaring his nephew, that only made Dylan giggle and grin with a smile that was so similar to his uncle’s.

Mark tried to look indignant. “Jack! You’re supposed to agree with me!” He was still smiling.

“You’re taller than I thought you’d be,” Dylan told Mark.

Mark pressed a hand to his chest and mock swooned. “Taller? Oh gosh, Jack, your nephew’s a real flatterer here. Almost makes me wanna tear up.”

“Can I get a picture? My friends are _never_ gonna believe this!” Dylan dug out his phone and tapped through to his camera app. “You too, Uncle Jack, Michel’s saying I’m making it up again!”

“ _Again_?” Jack tsked, shaking his head as he dropped to a knee behind Dylan and pulling a face for the camera. “When is that boy gonna realize that you run into me way too often to be faking it?”

“Michel’s pretty stupid,” Dylan giggled. “Markiplier?” He looked up at the older man, waiting for Mark to get in the shot.

Mark paused. He pushed up a smile for Dylan. “You can just call me Mark, if you want. Let’s show that Michael kid just what he’s missing out on.” With some maneuvering, he was able to squeeze into the frame next to Jack with an arm wrapped around Jack’s shoulders. After a brief moment’s hesitation, he mimicked Jack’s efforts and pulled a silly face.

Jack snuck his hand up to press against Mark's back as Dylan took a round of selfies with them, silently offering his support and gratitude. He kept up the contact as Dylan, ice broken now, jabbered away to Mark in an excited flurry of French-tinged Irish-English. Jack grinned as he watched Mark try to follow along: when Dylan got excited, his accent could make his words nearly indecipherable for _Jack_ , who didn't have a problem understanding the Irish accent.

Dylan told Mark about all his videos and which ones were his favorites (FNAF and challenges). He showed Mark pictures of his room and his friends and pointed out which ones liked which YouTubers. The aforementioned Michel, his best friend, was a die-hard PewDiePie fan who insisted Mark and Jack were little more than copycats. Jack privately thought Michel was just trying to get a rise out of Dylan, but he laughed and nodded along as Dylan explained how he defended his uncle's honor on a Parisian playground.

Eventually, Dylan spotted another cousin and ran off to greet him, hugging Jack and Mark good-bye too quickly to protest and then leaving them in a moment of calm. Jack climbed back to his feet, his hand finding Mark's again. “You doing okay?” He asked, leaning in closer to be heard over the music and laughter all around them.

The moment they were on their feet and relatively alone again Mark clutched hard at Jack’s hand. “I'm.. I'm doing all right. Guess the party’s really in full swing now, huh? You should.. you should go say hi to some of your other relatives. I didn't even know you had family in France. You probably don't get to see them often, so…”

“Yeah, my brother moved outside of Paris for his wife.” Jack squeezed Mark's hand, tugging him closer to the wall and moving in front of him to shield him from the room. “Need a hug?” Mark wasn't looking panicked, but there was a spooked expression in his eyes. Either Dylan had been overwhelming, or all the noise was.

Jack glanced around and caught his sister's eye. She gave him a questioning face, and he returned a small shake of his head. _Not now, you can talk to us later._ Mark needed a cool down before getting another intense McLoughlin experience. “It's always awesome to get us all together, but the family just gets bigger and bigger with every year…”

Mark relaxed some, reaching for Jack’s other hand. “I… I, yeah. Y-yeah, you think it'd be okay?” He sighed heavily. “I don't want to make things awkward for you with your family. They seem like _really great_ people. And Dylan’s adorable. It's just… the physical contact. It's hard.”

 _“_ Pff, everyone's hugging here. It's fine.” Jack's family knew he was Mark's support. Some of them might get the wrong (right) idea, but Jack didn't care about that.

“Right, but that's family, if you're not sure they-”

Jack wrapped his arms around Mark, gently silencing his words with a hug. “I love you, okay?” he whispered into Mark’s ear as they pressed close. “I'm so proud of you. You're doing _great_.”

Mark really was. He was tense, yes, but he wasn't panicking. He held Jack's hand, but he had suggested Jack leave him to visit with family. He was doing amazingly well...and Jack sorta wished he could just take Mark home and kiss him properly. He had to settle for squeezing his arms around Mark's waist and giving his neck an unobtrusive little nuzzle.

“I love you too. I'm trying. It's harder than I thought, but I'm gonna do it. I will. Good to know I haven't been super awkward or anything….” Mark was blushing, but it was hard to notice in the dim light of the restaurant. His hands slide to Jack’s biceps and gave a little squeeze. “I saw your sister looking at us. We should go say hi. She's probably wondering how things have been.”

“God yeah, last time she saw you, you were barely a step above zombie…” Too pale, too skinny, too scared of the entire world. Jack had been _fiercely_ protective of Mark’s first steps outside the hospital...and his sister had given him a too-knowing look even back then. Jack pinked up a little. “She may, uh, may have had her suspicions about us. In the past. And. Um. Out of all my siblings, I'm closest to her, and...she’s a big sister. They just look at you and _know things._ ” Big sisters were scarier than big brothers. Mark was lucky to not have any.

“Oh great. So instead of Tom badgering us about it, your sister’s probably gonna say something. At least we have some practice.”

Before they could head toward the older woman, Jack’s father stepped in front of them. “Sean.”

“Dad!” Jack accepted the proffered hand and was pulled into a tight hug that was eagerly reciprocated. “Dad, this is Mark,” he said, when they broke apart. “Mark, this is my dad.”

Jack’s father looked Mark over stiffly and then offered his hand to the American. “Mark, huh? We've heard quite a lot about you.”

Mark accepted the older man’s hand, meeting his eyes and clearly trying (at least in Jack’s eyes) to make a good impression. “I'm sure it's been nothing but good, coming from Jack. It's nice to finally meet you, sir. Happy anniversary.”

Jack's father squeezed Mark's hand tightly, not as hard as Tom has crushed Jack's, but enough to not be completely friendly. “Thank you. Glad you could make it.”

Mark upheld his friendly expression through the intimidating gesture. “You’re welcome. Glad to be here.”

Jack cleared his throat slightly, looking pointedly at the handshake. His dad released Mark's hand and took a step back. “Sean has been overflowing with your praise for years. We were starting to doubt you were real. No one could be _that_ perfect…”

Jack frowned, sidling closer to Mark and nudging his hands with his fingers. They might be in front of his dad, but Jack was more concerned about Mark's composure than his father's.

Mark’s smile was forced, but Jack figured it was good enough for someone who didn’t know him all that well. “He’s really too kind. I can tell you I’m nowhere near perfect at all, but I do try to be a good role model for people that look up to me. Including Jack. Personally, I think he’s grown to be a better man than me by a longshot. You should be proud.” He turned to shoot Jack an adoring glance and for those few seconds his smile slipped into something more genuine.

“The two of you have gotten pretty damn close,” Jack's father began, but Jack smoothly interjected before he could continue.

“We've been through Hell together, Dad. Course we're close.” It was a not-so-subtle reminder to not harass Mark too much. His father frowned a little but nodded.

“You seen your mother around?”

“I think she was talking to Mally.” Jack gestured toward his older brother with the impressive beard. “She already gave Mark a hug.”

Jack's father snorted. “She would do. We'll talk later, Sean.”

“Sure thing, Dad.” Jack stayed tense as his father nodded at Mark and headed deeper into the party, only relaxing when it was obvious he wasn't coming right back.

Mark outright sagged, but he turned to Jack with obvious concern and gently touched at his shoulder. “Jack? You okay? That got kinda intense there for a second.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Jack grimaced and rubbed at his forehead. “Dad can be… traditional. He’s been asking if you were my boyfriend ever since…well, ever since he knew what Septiplier was.” Ever since the Ship Sinker took Mark.

“Well, I doubt that’s the last time we’ll interact with him tonight but we can do our best to avoid another confrontation. We’ll meet up with your other family and eat and dance and have fun even if he wants to be a big ol’ sourpuss in his judgment corner. Maybe this party’s for your parents, but it’s _still_ a party.”

Jack shook his head and reached over to take Mark’s hand. “How about we just skip meeting new people and get some food and find a seat somewhere? This place is one of the best in the city for a _reason_.” And food would distract them and give them an opportunity to sit down together, rebuilding their strength for the rest of the night.

Mark squeezed Jack’s hand reassuringly. “I feel like I’m about to get dunked on by a crap ton of Irish food. Lead the way, oh culinary guide to the Emerald Isles. Try not to give me death by whiskey poisoning.”

Jack chuckled, squeezing Mark’s fingers in a far kinder way than his father had, and led Mark to the tables set for food. There were waiters to take their order from set menus, and Jack made suggestions of things for Mark to try. He and Signe used to come here often, when she lived with him…

Jack shook thoughts of his ex aside as he turned back to Mark. His _boyfriend._ He could make new memories of this restaurant, ones that weren’t tied to her. Tonight he was with all of his favorite people in the world (aside from Felix and Robin), and he was going to enjoy it, dammit, no matter _what_ his father thought of his best friend.

Jack’s sister did end up joining them to eat, marveling at how far Mark had come and how cute they were together. _No wonder Dad thinks you’re banging!_ she had giggled as they both went pink at the compliments. Jack threatened to dump his beer on her head, and she threatened to show Dylan where he was ticklish, and they ended in a stalemate.

Most of the McLoughlins ended up eating at the same time, but the volume in the room didn’t drop one iota. Clinking glasses and silverware only added to the joyful noise of familial conversations and boisterous laughter. Mally gave a toast to his parents, and all the McLoughlin siblings, Jack included, shouted jeers and taunts lovingly at their parents, who threw them all right back.

Several hours later, Jack had finally left Mark’s side to dance with his mother at her request. They were completely butchering an Irish reel, clinging to each other’s arms as they laughed and capered together.

“Ah, to be young and in love again…!” Jack’s mother giggled as he swung her in a circle, catching Jack when his eyes were drifting toward Mark. “He’s a sweet lad, Jackaboy. You done good.”

“It’s not…” Jack tried not to blush, but his head was turning, tracking Mark across the room… and fuck. _Fuck._ Mark was pale and shaky, and Jack could see that from the dance floor. He was on the verge of a panic attack, and his _dad_ was beside Mark, and _what the fuck had he done!?_ Jack broke away from the dance, bolting across the room and shoving family out of the way to get to Mark’s side. “Mark! _Mark!_ ”

Jack ignored the attention on him as he reached for Mark’s hands, getting in front of his boyfriend and leaning closer so he could be heard. It was too loud in this room. He needed to get Mark out, _now_. “Mark, Mark, look at me, you’re safe Mark. I’m here. You’re safe, okay? Can you hold it together for two more minutes? Just two more minutes, I’ll get you out of here, okay?” He didn’t even spare a glare for his father, he just rubbed at the back of Mark’s hands, not touching him anywhere else, his whole focus on his boyfriend. “Can you take my hand, Mark? Take my hand, and we’ll go someplace quiet.”

Mark made a wounded sound, shaking beneath Jack’s hands. “J-Jack….” His eyes were huge and wet behind his glasses. “Jack.. Jack I…” He managed a tight nod and a weak hold on Jack’s hands. _“Please.”_

“Come on, Mark, come on. I’ve got you. I’m right here.” Jack didn’t let go of either of Mark’s hands as he began to move toward the door. His family parted around them. His mother had gone to talk to his father, and Jack felt a moment of upset for causing a scene during a party meant to be for them, but he couldn’t dwell on it. He needed to get Mark to the safety of… of the restaurant bathroom. That was probably the quietest room in the building right now, and he could take Mark into a stall and cut off the rest of the world, no matter how it might look.

Outside the private room, Jack murmured softly to Mark, squeezing his hands and guiding him into the bathroom. This room was all cool tiles and hard surfaces, nothing at all like _that_ room. Jack took Mark into the handicap stall and pulled a hand free to bolt the door behind him. “Mark? Mark, it’s okay. We’re alone now. It’s okay. It’s just you and me here. I’m right here, okay? I love you. Do you… do you want a hug? Or just to sit down?”

Mark took a step toward Jack, then away, backing up until his back hit the wall. He slid down slowly, knees buckling beneath him, until he was seated on the floor, his hands pressed against the cool tiles. Mark patted at the spot beside him on the floor, his hand tapping a needing plea for Jack to join him.

“It's okay, Mark, it's okay. I'm here. You're safe. It's okay.” Jack sat beside Mark, squeezing his hands and talking softly, repeating the same reassurances over and over again. Now that they were in the empty bathroom, though, Jack could add more. “I love you, Mark. I'm right here. I love you. So much.”

Jack wanted to hug Mark, to pull him into his arms and kiss away all the tension, but he resisted. He curled his toes in his shoes instead and kept projecting as much calm and love as possible toward his boyfriend. “I love you, Mark. I love you. I'm right here with you. You're safe.”

While Mark flinched at first, he weakly squeezed Jack’s hands back, fighting to steady his breathing. His gaze looked fuzzy and distant, but his eyes remained on Jack’s face. Eventually, the rest of his body twisted toward Jack as well, and Mark leaned against him, tucking his face into the crook of Jack’s neck and taking a deep breath. He took a deep breath in, and when he let it out, it was heavy with tears.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Jack, I'm s-so sorry I fucked up. I fucked up and I lost it a-and you were right. I shouldn't have come. I thought I could handle it but I couldn't and now I made everything awkward for you and your family I just… _I’m sorry,_ I love you, pl-please hold me before I come apart at the seams Jack, please.” Mark’s voice cracked and broke as he began to sob into Jack’s neck.

Jack eased his hands free from Mark's and wrapped his arms loosely around his boyfriend. He was gentle at first, but increased the pressure as Mark remained okay with the hold. “No, Mark, _no_ , you didn't fuck up. You didn't. You started to panic but you held it together long enough for me to get you out of there, and you didn't fall too deep. This was good, Mark. I know it doesn't feel good, but it _was_. It was good for both of us, to see what to do.”

Jack rubbed Mark's back and rested his cheek against Mark's hair, hugging his boyfriend against his chest. “I love you, Mark. And I'm proud of you. And I have you. Okay? I'm here, you're here, we're both safe. Everything is going to be okay.”

Mark’s fingers dug deep into Jack’s overshirt until they were pressing at his ribs. He melted against Jack’s side, his emotions pouring out in a wet, sticky mess that soaked into Jack’s collar until he could finally breathe calmly again. Mark pressed a couple kisses into the wet skin of Jack’s neck. “I love you. I love you so much, Jack. I was so scared. I was so scared they'd done something to you o-or taken you I just panicked. I freaked out because you weren't there and I'd forgotten all about **_them._** I forgot how dangerous they could be and I shouldn't. I shouldn't have I don't care if it's paranoid Jack I don't e-ever want anything to happen to you. I never want you to see that damn room.”

“I'm not going to be in that room, Mark. And you're never going to be in there again.” That wasn't how the Ship Sinker worked. It was one thing Jack could be grateful for. He pressed a kiss to Mark's hair in response to the kisses against his neck and adjusted his hold so he could rock Mark gently.

“Never. Never, never, _never.”_ Mark repeated himself with every kiss _._ He let his lips linger against Jack’s pulse, feeling Jack’s life with his mouth. “Love you too.”

“I love you,” Jack repeated tirelessly. “I love you, Mark, so, so much.” He took a deep breath and tucked his head back against Mark's. “Was that what triggered you? That I left you alone?”

Mark curled into Jack and pressed a cheek to his shoulder. “No…. I mean, that became a big deal later, when I was already starting to panic and couldn't find you. But.. I was okay before then. With you gone. You looked like you were having a lot of fun.” He frowned. “I'm sorry….”

“Hey. It's not like you did it on purpose. And it's like I've told you before: your comfort and sense of security comes first. Always.” Jack closed his eyes, letting Mark curl against him. “Mark, this was your first real expedition into the wider world. First time you've had a lot of focus on you, first time you were left on your own with strangers ever since…” Jack shook his head a little. “You were safe the whole time, but it _was_ all new. It's understandable that you had an attack. If we can figure out what triggered it, though, we can work on it to make sure it doesn't happen again.

Mark kept curling up, practically climbing into Jack’s lap before he spoke again. “...your dad. He came over while you were dancing and asked about our relationship. I was ready for that. I think I handled it really well. But then… he brought **_them_** up. Started.. a-asking me, about them. How they worked. If they.. if there was a risk they could come and take you. He kept staring at my scars as if seeing them on _you_ and it just- I freaked out. He dug up a lot of stuff I'd been burying and without you there I didn't know how to handle it. I lost count of my breathing and it was all downhill from there.” His breath hitched.

“ _Jesus fuck,_ ” Jack breathed, understanding exactly why Mark had been triggered. The night had been going so well, and then his stupid dad had to open his big mouth…

That was cruel and unkind. Jack loved his father, and he knew he hasn't asked the questions to deliberately trigger Mark. If _Tom_ , who had talked with Mark at least weekly since he was out of that room, hadn't realized how damaged Mark was, there was no way Jack's father could have known.

Mark finally wiggled his arms free to slip them around Jack and give him a tight squeeze. “I don't think he meant to trigger me. I don't even think he knew he was making me uncomfortable until it was too late. He.. he tried to help, when he realized. I don't really remember what he said but… his face wasn't good. It was probably just an accident.”

Jack sighed and tugged at Mark, pulling him into his lap fully so Mark could settle against his shoulder in a position mirroring that first night in the rain. “I'm sorry, Mark. He shouldn't have asked you any of that. I know as much about their methods as you do. He could have asked me himself if he was so worried.” It would have been easier to ask a stranger, though, instead of asking Jack how likely it was that he'd be kidnapped and tortured.

“He's a dad. I don't know if I could have asked my kid those questions. I don't know if _my dad_ could have asked me those questions. I might've been okay to field them, if I'd just known ahead of time. He... he really caught me off-guard.”

Jack's head lolled back against the tiles, his eyes still closed. “Tell you what, how about we call a cab when you're feeling up to it, and we just head home, hmm? We've been here a few hours. I'd call that a success.”

Mark had been snuggled in against Jack, slowly relaxing. He sat up a little at Jack’s offer. “What? Are you sure? Jack, your whole family is still here. I doubt you all gather together like this very often. I don't want to drag you away just because I'm…” He ducked his head lower on Jack’s shoulder. “What about your parents?”

“Yeah, and? I've been here for hours, it's not like they're being denied my presence. I've talked with everyone at least once and played that card game with Dylan and danced with my mum.” Jack lifted a hand to Mark's chin, tilting his face up to steal a kiss. “I've been itching to do _that_ all night. Besides, my parents don't live that far away. I can see them anytime. If you're ready to go back, we can go back. I don't want to push you too far on your first night.” Mark melted all over again and stole another kiss.

Jack was a bit eager to retreat himself. He loved his family, but there was only so much social he could take at a time. If the rest of the night was just spent curled up on the couch with Mark and Chica, Jack would be an incredibly happy man. “I can call the cab and then say my goodbyes while we're waiting for it to arrive. It'll be okay.”

Mark smattered more feather soft kisses down along Jack’s chin and jaw. His fingertips dragged harshly down Jack’s back as he pulled away again to stare into Jack’s eyes. “I.. okay. If you're all right with it. Chica’s probably feeling lonely anyway.” Mark's hands skimmed back up to hook over the back of Jack’s shoulders. His expression gained a serious undertone. “But I want to say goodbye with you. At least your parents and Dylan. And your sister. I'm still grateful for that ride she gave us months ago.”

 _“_ Okay.” Jack could accept Mark's condition easily, with a bit of a chuckle even. “Don't be ready for another minute or so, okay?” Now that Mark wasn't hiding in his shoulder, Jack leaned in to kiss him properly, coaxing the tension out of Mark's face with lips and tongue, his hands pressed against Mark's back to hold him up. He wanted to take his time with this kiss, savoring his boyfriend.

When they did break apart, Jack brushed some of Mark's dark floof out of his eyes and smiled. “Ready? Or want to stay in here a bit longer?”

“Just a minute.” Mark murmured the words as he brought one of his hands around to stroke the backs of his fingers along Jack’s cheek. He leaned in to kiss Jack again, lapping into Jack’s mouth and settling in as if he belonged there. The hand at Jack's front dropped to spread against Jack’s chest while the other lingered around Jack’s shoulders, lifting up to tangle crooked fingers in short brown hair.

As much as Jack loved his family, very little could hold a candle to making out with Mark. Granted, the hard floor of a public restroom was not Jack's first choice of make out locations, but it was okay simply because Mark was there too. Jack murmured happily into the kiss as Mark's fingers found his hair, and he kneaded softly at Mark's back.

“I'm calling a cab,” Jack murmured when they pulled apart. “We'll continue this at home?” Maybe shirtless? Jack wouldn't push. Not tonight. But if Mark wanted to push, Jack wouldn't stop him.

“Please.” Mark grudgingly wiggled himself out of Jack’s lap. He stood with the support of the wall and drew in a deep breath. Quietly, Mark extended a hand to his boyfriend. “Let’s go say bye. Before they send in a search party.”

Jack grinned at the joke, bad though it was, and got to his feet as well. Mark’s humor returning was always a good sign. “Glad you’re back, Mark.”

After calling for a cab to pick them up, Jack led Mark on the family rounds. His siblings all gave Jack tight hugs and wished Mark well or shook his hand. None of them went for a hug with Mark, not even the sister who had given them a ride back from the hospital. She beamed at the pair, nodded pointedly at their joined hands, and asked “Still not boyfriends?”

“Shuddup,” Jack grumbled. She merely laughed and assured Mark that it was a pleasure to see him again, and to see how far he’d come since their last meeting.

And then it was time to say good-bye to Jack’s parents. His mother squeezed him tight and then turned to Mark. “You too, love?” she asked, offering a hug this time instead of simply pressing it upon him like she had earlier.

Jack’s father stood beside her, looking somewhat cowed.

Mark looked at Jack’s mother and hesitated. His shoulders eventually sagged as he caved to the welcoming arms of Mrs. McLoughlin. “Thank you for letting me come along with Jack to your party. I hope you enjoy the rest of your anniversary. And, I’m sorry. About the…” He awkwardly looked off to the side.

Jack’s mother was absolutely beaming as Mark pulled away, puffed up with pride like she’d just won some sort of mythical jackpot. She patted Mark’s shoulder, tsking slightly. “Oh come now, that’s me oaf of a husband’s fault, and you know it. What do you have to say for yourself, love?” She looked pointedly at the man beside her.

“I don’t need yer prompting, Florrie,” Jack’s father retorted. He took a step toward Mark, hesitated, and then held out his hand. “I’m sorry, Mark. I didn’t think about how… _that topic_ would affect you before I started asking my questions. I know Jack’s gonna chew me out later himself, so I figured I’d get my apologies in while I still have an arse.”

Jack looked over at Mark, gauging how that apology would go over.

After a moment’s hesitation, Mark accepted the offered hand and gave it a firm shake. “Apology accepted. I know you didn’t do it on purpose. Trust me, I worry about him too. I promise I’ll make sure he stays out of trouble while I’m still here with him. And I already asked him personally to spare your butt. The rest is up for grabs, though.” His gentle smile quirked up with a bit of humor.

This time, the handshake was not too harsh on Jack’s father’s side. This time, it was almost friendly. Jack’s mother smiled at her husband, then at the couple. “I’m glad to have finally met ye, Mark. Ye’ve been an important part of my Jackaboy’s life for a long time. It’s been years I’ve been hearing yer name, and there’s a difference between watching a video and meeting the man. Ye two have a good night. We look forward to seeing ye again!”

“Hope I get to see you both one more time before I head back to the States. Have a good night!” Mark retreated fully to Jack’s side and turned to shoot his boyfriend a smile.

Jack squeezed Mark’s hand and nodded to his father, obviously too preoccupied with Mark to give his dad a hug. His dad looked at their joined hands and then up at Jack… and then gave a little sigh and a tiny smile, his own arm wrapping around his wife’s shoulders.

Jack hadn’t even realized how much he’d been afraid his dad would hate him for having a boyfriend until he realized he didn’t have to worry anymore. He felt tension leave his shoulders and guided Mark away.

“Okay, so, I can’t leave without saying good-bye to Dylan…” Dylan would be the last, but also the hardest to find, because he was so short. He was near the desserts though. Jack should have known that.

“Uncle Jack! Markiplier! Are you guys leaving?” Dylan hopped to his feet, abandoning his cake to give Jack a tight hug.

“Yeah, Markiplier’s an old man. Gotta put him to bed.”

“Just like Dad?”

“Just like your dad. Just like Uncle Jack too.” Jack ruffled Dylan’s hair. “We’re not young like you anymore. We get tired!”

“You should have more cake,” Dylan declared, as if cake could solve everything.

“But if we eat all the cake then there won’t be any left for you.” Mark pointed out as he crouched down again. “You want another hug from me too?”

“Yeeeeees!” Dylan pulled away from Jack to catapult against Mark’s chest. “This is the _best_ night ever! Is Markiplier gonna stay with you forever, Uncle Jack, so I can always visit both of you?”

“Uh…” Jack glanced down at Mark. They hadn’t ever talked about what was going to happen after Mark got better and had to leave Ireland. “Probably not, Dyllers. When he’s feeling better, he’s gonna go back home to America.”

“To Chica!” Dylan giggled. “She’s a really cool dog. I want a dog! But Mama says no…”

Mark sent Jack a hopeless glance as he tried to understand the combination French/Irish accent. “Dogs are… good. I bet Chica would love you.”

“Maybe you can come visit Mark and Chica in L.A. sometime,” Jack suggested, giving Mark a little shake of his head. It had taken years before _he_ could understand Dylan the majority of the time. “We can both go! It’ll be awesome… if your mum says we can.”

“I’ll ask! I will I will I will!” Dylan squeezed Mark again before letting him go. “Good night, Uncle Jack, Markiplier! It was so awesome to hang out with you tonight!”

“If she says yes, we’d both love to have you.” Mark returned the squeeze and then rose to his feet. “Good night, Dylan. Hope to see you again real soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	44. Night 213: Kinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack learns a lot about himself.

It was dark by the time Mark and Jack left the restaurant to climb into their cab, and they could easily hold hands in the backseat with their fingers interlaced, their faces striped with light from the streetlamps on the drive back. Jack kept looking at Mark, drinking in his boyfriend’s profile in the dark, the glitter of his eyes behind his glasses, the way Mark would look back at him…

The ride took far too long. By the time they arrived at the cottage, Jack was squeezing impatiently at Mark’s fingers, eager to be allowed to kiss him again. Separating to get out of the cab was torturous. Lingering to pay the driver was a _nightmare_. Mark had already gone inside to let Chica out one last time. The cool night air was not doing much to calm Jack’s _need_ to get his hands on his boyfriend again.

Jack came inside and locked the door behind him, but the sound of a crash made him detour to the living room just in time to see Mark face-planted into the couch. “Uh…” Chica was in her crate, wagging her tail, but Mark was dead.

Well, not _dead_ , but not on his feet. Jack bit back his smiles to be appropriately concerned, easing toward the crashed American. “Mark? You okay there, love?”

Mark groaned into the arm of the couch where his face had come to rest. “Yeah…. Only thing really hurt is my pride. And my ego. And maybe my face, just a little, I guess. Couchburn.” He grunted and shoved his hands into a cushion to peel his face from the upholstery. His glasses were barely clinging to his ears as he turned to shoot Jack a pout. “I was _trying_ to be sexy for you.”

Jack _did_ grin at that, leaning over the arm of the couch to press a kiss to Mark’s nose. “Aww, I’m sorry. Need me to kiss you better?” As far as Jack was concerned, Mark was sexy _all_ the time. Even when he was being adorably pouty like this, and was his shirt unbuttoned? Jack’s eyes dipped down to the exposed skin and back up to Mark’s face. “I hope you say yes, cause I’m probably just gonna kiss you _anyway_.”

Mark gave a cheeky grin. “Like I said: _trying to be sexy for you._ And save my shirt buttons. Now where’s my boo-boo kisses?” He playfully wiggled his nose and then puckered up expectantly at his boyfriend.

Jack burst out laughing, reaching up to cup Mark’s cheeks. “God, if you didn’t have the world’s sexiest voice, this would be a _lot_ harder. Or not hard enough.”

“I could fix that.”

Jack gave Mark his best fish-face pucker and pushed their lips together in an exaggerated mockery of a kiss before shifting his angle and coaxing Mark into a proper kiss over the couch arm. “You are being very sexy right now. And very stupid. But you make it work.”

Mark was giggling as he gripped at the arm of the couch and pulled himself closer. “Aha, so my ingenious plan was a success! This was my secret ploy all along and you fell right into my sexy trap of sexitude, Jacksepticeye. Now suffer the consequences of my stupid sexy technique!”

Jack could only laugh into the kiss. He wrapped his arms around Mark, tugging him close, the arm of the couch acting as a chaperone while they were in front of Chica’s big eyes. He would never tire of kissing Mark. They could be ninety-eight and old and shriveled up and Jack knew he would _still_ want to kiss this man. He moaned softly beneath the onslaught of Mark’s kiss, melting in place, his eyes falling closed to better savor the feeling.

Mark hummed a response to Jack’s moan and kept him close with his mouth. Their lips separated several times only to come back together again as if they were opposing magnets. Digging his forearm into the couch, Mark reached up to cup tenderly at the side of Jack’s face. His fingertips rubbed encouragingly at the scruff of brown there while he traced at Jack’s lips with his tongue.

When Jack finally pulled back, he kept his eyes closed, a stupid little smile tugging at his lips. “Mark? It’s late. I think we should turn off the lights and go to the bedroom, because there’s no way in hell I’m gonna want to do anything else by the time I’m done kissing you tonight…”

“...yeah, y’know, I was about to say if we stay in this position for much longer I’m gonna kill my back. It’s already twinging.” Mark let his fingertips shift and slide down the side of Jack’s face. “Gimme back my beautiful face and we’ll relocate? I know it might be hard but we can do it together, Jack. I believe in you.”

Jack grunted, exaggerating the effort he needed to peel his fingers away from Mark’s face. He let his arms drop to his sides, panting slightly with the ‘exertion’ and opened his eyes.

“Congration. You done it.” Mark praised and gave Jack’s cheek a congratulatory little pat. Still beaming, he gave a nod and scrambled awkwardly back onto his feet. He took a moment to stretch out his back with a slight grimace. “Yeah. Okay. Never doing that position again.”

“You get the lights,” Jack suggested. The night lights throughout the house would be enough for Jack to get back to the bedroom. “I’ll arm the system.” A state of the art security system could only do them good if they actually _set_ it. Jack mostly didn’t forget. Mostly.

They separated to do their respective tasks. When Jack entered the bedroom, he stopped abruptly just inside the door, his eyes going wide. Mark was stretched out on the bed, looking absolutely delicious in about half of the formal wear Jack had wished he could pull off before the party. He had propped himself up on the arms and was smirking at the door, at _Jack_. The position he was in let his half-unbuttoned shirt gape open, revealing a golden expanse of toned chest, and while his legs weren’t spread open, the stretch of his slacks across his groin revealed more than a little interest.

Words completely failed Jack as he stared and _stared_. He croaked a little, managing to clear his throat and mutter a thoroughly enraptured “ _Fuck…!_ ”

“Well, no, probably not tonight. But _eventually._ ” Mark’s smirk morphed into something more like a cocky grin. He gave an exaggerated “come hither” gesture. “Oh Jack, I’m so _busy_ being stupidly sexy that I think I might need some help with these buttons. Wanna help a bro out?”

Jack remained frozen for a full beat longer, but then he was moving, crossing the room to pounce on Mark on the bed, climbing over a leg and pressing their mouths together. “ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed against Mark’s lips, “fuck, Mark, this has to be illegal, you’re not allowed to be so damn _hot_ …” Even if absolutely _nothing_ else happened tonight, Jack knew this memory was going to be the source of many, _many_ future orgasms.

Mark ended up giggling against Jack’s mouth as they broke the kiss, his hands migrating naturally to Jack’s hips. He squeezed there while he scattered lighter kisses around Jack’s face. “That’s..” Another for his mouth; brief and sweet. “..my line…”

“No, your line is ‘I’ll never let go, Jack!’”

“I swear, if you say _one word_ about goats….”

Jack snickered against Mark’s cheek, nuzzling his face and letting his hands slide down Mark’s chest. “Can I take this off?” His fingers found the first button not undone, and he fidgeted with the cotton, lifting his eyes to Mark’s. “Please, _please_ , can I pull this off you? I wanna see you…”

Mark met Jack’s eyes with a smile. “Well, I _did_ ask you for help with the buttons…. Taking the shirt off’s just the next step, right?” He let his fingers dip beneath the hem of Jack’s two layers to emphasize, rubbing circles into pale skin with his thumbs.

Jack smiled back, leaning in to kiss Mark, but then he sat back over Mark’s knee. “If you need me to do anything differently,” he told Mark, reminding him of what Mark had to know by heart by now, “just let me know.” He watched himself push the button through its hole, spreading the fabric further and exposing that much more of Mark’s chest. His fingers dipped beneath the shirt to touch the bared skin, rubbing gently, finding a scar, before he moved to the next button now. Quite unintentionally, the tip of Jack’s tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he focused his attention on slowly stripping Mark’s shirt off.

“What I need you to do differently is be in _way_ less clothes. I can’t tell if this makes you a sadist or a masochist but I’m gonna have grey hair by the time you pull my shirt out of my pants, Jack.”

“You said I could,” Jack retorted, glancing up briefly at Mark’s eyes to gauge his boyfriend’s distress level before returning to his work.

“I did say you could.” Mark relented in a groan. He looked frustrated but not anxious. Jack could continue being slow.

“I am unwrapping you like my present, because you deserve for me to take my time. Also, it’s fun. But I could take my shirt off for you if you want your idea of eye candy to indulge in…”

Mark gave a soft snort of disbelief. “‘My idea of eye candy’. You’re too damn humble, Jack. You can’t sit there and tell me people don’t go gaga over your body the same way they do mine. I know you keep up with social media.” Mark’s muscles quivered beneath Jack’s touch and he did a bit of a crunch with a grunt just so he could ruck up Jack’s shirts a few inches. “I _want_ to see you.”

Jack giggled, poking his finger teasingly into Mark’s belly button before drawing his hands back. He shrugged off his top shirt before catching Mark’s fingers in his and drawing them up, letting Mark’s hands slide his own shirt up another couple of inches. Relenting to spare Mark’s straining abs ( _amazing_ though they were), Jack released Mark’s hands and pulled his shirt up and off...slowly. “Better?”

“Hey!” Mark let loose a little yip. He forced himself up again to cling to Jack’s ribs. “You’re not close enough.”

“If I get any closer, I can’t watch as I unwrap you,” Jack pointed out, quite sensibly in his mind. He leaned in to peck a kiss over Mark’s lips, but then returned to his slow undoing of Mark’s buttons. This time, he slid his hands into Mark’s shirt and up his chest, humming happily as he felt those strengthening muscles and solid pecs. “Mark, seriously, your body is unfair.”

Mark tried to steal another kiss but couldn’t get close enough before falling back with a grunt and a pout. Shivering, Mark dragged fingernails down Jack’s clothed thighs. “And yours is still out of reach. I’d say that’s what’s _really_ unfair, Jack. So cruel to your boyfriend. To your bf. I’m dying of thirst down here.”

Jack tweaked Mark’s nipples before his hands retreated. He tugged Mark’s shirt free from his pants and reached for another button. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before leaving half of these done up for me!” Jack was having way too much fun while Mark was in a good mood, and he was absolutely going to take advantage of it.

 _“Fffff-”_ Mark jolted and very nearly let loose a loud whine. His slapped over his nipples in a defensive maneuver. His cheeks had gone pink but his pants were obviously tighter. “ _Fuckdammit,_ Jack! I repeal my earlier question! I’ve got the answer. You’re a sadist. You’re _enjoying_ this I cannot believe I’m in love with _such a_ ** _little shit._** I thought I’d have to worry about you _ripping_ my clothes off; not this. I’m gonna die. R.I.P. Markiplier. Cause of death: sexual neglect on behalf of his boyfriend.” He huffed. “Jack. If you don’t start touching me, or let _me_ touch _you,_ then I’m gonna be forced to take some drastic measures here.”

Jack’s giggle definitely had an evil undertone as he popped another button free. “Mark, Mark, Mark, you _knew_ I was a little shit when you first kissed me. Don’t go acting like this was a complete surprise!” That was the last button, though, and Jack was able to push Mark’s shirt open, exposing his chest fully.

“Complete surprise? More like a terrible reminder!” Mark’s hands slid free of his pecs.

“Mm. You’re gorgeous. I could just sit here and look at you _all night._ ” The mischievous twinkle in Jack’s eye was betrayed by his own pants, tight to begin with, now straining over his erection. Jack really wouldn’t have the patience to sit here all night, much as he wanted to. He’d give in and touch Mark soon. _Soon_. But not yet.

A whine bubbled up at the back of Mark’s throat. “Jaaaack! Why just look, when you can _touch?_ ” Mark suddenly heaved himself up to meet Jack’s eyes and grip tightly at his hips. “Jack. Jack, love of my life, evil little leprechaun, master baiter, I want you to get up and take off your pants. Before I flip you upside-down and tickle you until you pass out. I’m talking raspberries, Jack. With this mouth. All over your stomach. Don’t think I won’t.”

Jack hated how Mark's voice seemed tied directly to his dick when it went deep and rumbly like that. (He loved it, too.) He twitched in his pants, or would have if they weren't so tight. Taking them off was definitely a good idea.

It was also a step they hadn't actually done yet. Jack had his hands in his pants in front of Mark before, many times, but his pants had always stayed _on_ , his legs fully covered.

“I did say you could have your eye candy,” Jack said once his voice was functioning again. He gave a little wiggle over Mark's leg and slid his hands down his own chest to toy with the button of his jeans before popping it open. He slid the zipper down, meaning to tease but really just far too relieved to let up some of the pressure across his cock. He gave a sigh of relief as his dick pushed through the fly of his jeans, covered only by thin underwear.

“You're still going too slow~” Mark sang even as he watched Jack open up his fly. He swiped his hands up and down Jack’s exposed sides before giving them a light squeeze. “You gotta stand up if you're gonna get’em off.”

Mark’s grip slid down to a narrow waist. “Hup!” With a soft grunt and a flex that could be seen in _all_ of his muscles Mark heaved Jack up off the bed. It was his turn to look devious as his hands slid further down to cup Jack’s ass through his loosened jeans. “Just gonna say sorry in advance if I fail epically at this but hold on Jackaboy _herewego!!!_ ”

Jack gave a very unmanly squeal as Mark fucking _lifted him off his feet_ , but he was pressed up against the wall before he could recover, his heart in his throat and his dick _throbbing_ against Mark’s hips. If it weren't for the moment of shock he felt at the move, he might very well have cum then and there, thoroughly embarrassing himself and ending things prematurely. As it was, Jack wrapped his legs around Mark’s waist instinctively, his arms latching onto Mark’s shoulders, eyes so wide he felt they were about to fall out. “ _Mark!_ ”

Mark fixed Jack with his best smolder through dark bangs and dropped his voice back into the register that went straight to Jack’s dick. “Now I'm gonna show you the _proper_ speed to use when appreciating your lover’s fantastic body.”

Mark was warm and solid between his legs, pressing up against him, muscles straining as he supported all of Jack’s weight. Jack could feel Mark’s own arousal just barely nudging against his ass, the first time he really _felt_ it, and he moaned in appreciation, trying to wriggle down enough to better experience it. _God_ , Mark was _perfect_ like this, sexy smolder and sexy voice and sexy body and he was _right there_ and Jack’s brain hopped past ‘short-circuit’ and went straight to imagining no clothes between them at all, just Mark between his legs, pressing up against him, _into_ him, fucking him senseless against the wall…

Jack _knew_ the entire expanse of his skin went bright red at that thought, that idea in his head of _Mark fucking him_. Before the Ship Sinker, whenever Jack indulged in a fantasy about his best friend, he was always on top. After, after they started this relationship, Jack figured if sex ever did happen, he'd have to bottom just to keep Mark’s trauma manageable. At least at first. He was willing to do it for Mark, but he hadn't been the most enthusiastic about it, even in his own head.

Now? Now, Jack was shocking _himself_ with how desperately he _wanted_. He _wanted_ to be fucked by Mark, _wanted_ the other man’s cock in his ass, pounding deep and hard and Jack _groaned_ , squeezing his eyes shut in a mix of embarrassment and pure _need_ , unable to meet Mark’s heavy gaze at that moment. His traitorous dick was leaking precum through the cotton of his briefs, and if Mark shifted at all, he'd probably be able to feel the damp spot against his belly. “ _Mark…_ ” Jack could only whisper his boyfriend’s name, caught up in his own head.

Mark shivered. “I wish you believed me about how gorgeous _you_ are, Jack. I wish you could see what I see. Feel what I..” Mark squeezed Jack’s ass and leaned in to kiss at his neck. “..feel." He paused, breathing heavily, lips still against Jack’s neck. “...is this okay? Are you okay?”

“Oh god _yes_!” Jack forced his eyes open to look at Mark, his face still burning. “Mark, _yes_ , this is okay, I'm okay, yes…” He dusted kisses across Mark's cheeks and lips, breathing heavily against the wall. “Mark, I...I...Mark…”

Mark met Jack’s fleeting lips whenever possible and giggled softly. “I love you too. I'm so glad this is okay.”

It wasn't fair, how strong his boyfriend was. Mark was a _nerd_ , for fucks sake! It was completely unfair and Jack _didn't care_ , because his brain was derailed as quickly as he could get it back on track in this position. “I love you, _so fucking much_ …”

Jack squeezed his eyes shut again, taking a deep breath to pull some semblance of control back. When he opened his eyes again, he leaned in to kiss Mark properly, deeply. “Are _you_ okay?” he asked. “Mark, are you...what _can't_ I do right now?” He lifted a hand to Mark's chin, trailing fingers up his beard and stopping where sideburns became proper hair. Was this okay? Could he touch Mark's hair?

“...you need to.. to stay. In your pants. Or underwear, at least. I'm sorry. I should.. I don't know, don't worry about mine just yet. Uh. Uh.. you can grind. _Carefully._ Not.. not too much at once. And.. you can touch me up here. My body. You can kiss me up here too. You can still mess with my nipples and…” Mark’s face reddened as he looked away from Jack’s eyes. “...you can try touching my hair. _Gently._ Just- slow. And careful. Talk to me. Okay?”

“Okay.” Jack leaned in for another kiss, lips glancing off Mark's. “ _Okay_. Fuck, Mark, how are you so strong? This shouldn't be legal!” He let his fingers creep up, carding gently through Mark's hair. “This is way too fucking hot. I'm not supposed to be getting _turned on_ by getting _picked up!_ ” As he pushed his fingers behind Mark's ear, Jack leaned over to whisper, “ _But I am…_ ”

Mark giggled. He chased after those lips again, just brushing mouths for a moment. “I'm not even back to full strength yet. Give me another month or two and I won't need the wall.” Mark kissed Jack’s cheek and nuzzled along his ear. “G-guess I'll just have to pick you up more often then, huh? Always happy to help my man discover new things about himself. Wonder if I could manage holding you with one hand….”

Jack couldn't help but moan again at the thought, shivering against the wall. “Mark, you have _no idea_ what I'm discovering about myself right now.” He flexed his thighs, pulling Mark tighter against him, not really thrusting but grinding against his body. “I'm discovering that in addition to your voice, I have a thing for your arms. And your dick. Your dick against my ass.” Jack's face was on fire, but he continued anyway, talking through the fingers in Mark's hair. “Your dick _in_ my ass. Mark, I'm seriously wanting...I want...I want _you…_ ”

A tender kiss silenced Jack’s pleas, and Mark licked at Jack’s mouth as they broke apart again. “Shh. I'm sorry, Jack. I can't give you what you want. Not yet.” He kissed the corner of Jack’s lips. “But you can still enjoy my arms.” Mark flexed; squeezing Jack’s ass and lifting him up a bit higher. “And my voice….” Mark latched onto Jack’s neck, lavishing the spot beneath his mouth and applying some suction.

“I don't…” Jack shook his head, flustered. “I'm okay, I'm okay with not…” He _wanted_ Mark, but actually _having_ him tonight would be moving waaaay too fast. “Mark, nngh...keep doing that and I can't, I can't keep talking…”

“I know. I know you are, Jack, it's okay. It's okay. It's okay, just make noise for me. Say my name. Tell me how much you love me, Jack, I'll take _anything_ in your voice. Just remind me that you're here. That it's you, and not..”

Jack rocked his hips against Mark’s little thrusts, then back into those strong hands holding him secure. He rubbed his fingers against Mark's scalp, pushing through his hair and panting harshly. If Mark weren't holding him up, he would have collapsed. “Y-you are _definitely_ succeeding at being sexy tonight…”

Mark shivered and panted, purring beneath Jack’s fingers. “Glad to hear my boyfriend approves. See? I can be sexy on purpose. And not just with my voice!” Mark gave a little sigh and laved a warm, wet stripe along Jack’s throat with his tongue. “ _Mnnn…_ if you can't talk, then… c-could you touch me some more? Other places? I can try to… to return the favor….” He started adjusting his grip on Jack’s ass.

“Don't...Don't you drop me,” Jack warned Mark. He freed his other hand from Mark's shoulder, trusting Mark and the wall to support him, and dragged it down to Mark's exposed chest.

“If I do, you can tease me all night. Swear on Chica.”

Those dark nipples were so sensitive and so much fun to play with. Jack rolled one between his fingers as he massaged Mark's scalp with the other hand, trying to intentionally keep it to fingertips so the touch was as far from _petting_ as possible. “Mark, Mark, I love you. I don't need...I don't _even_ need you to touch me, not with your hands, not if you're holding me like this and kissing me like tha-a-at…!”

Jack's voice stuttered and cracked as Mark's grip adjusted, accompanied by another twitch of his hips and a heady moan. “Fuck, Mark, Mark, love, I love you, _I love you…_!”

Mark’s face was hidden in Jack’s neck, pressing tight with every push of Jack’s fingers. He bucked his hips upward, bouncing Jack against the wall. His hands stayed on Jack’s ass. “Keep going, Jack, k-keep going. Get as loud as you want it doesn't matter. Only I'm gonna hear you and I wanna hear _all_ of you. Everything. Tell me what you want, Jack. Tell me what I can do. I…” He stopped to breathe a deep groan against Jack’s throat.

Mark’s hips bucked up against Jack’s ass, dick sliding between Jack’s legs, and Jack very nearly lost it, his head knocking back against the wall with a cry of Mark’s name. He pinched at Mark’s nipple and then soothed it with his fingers. “Th-that, Mark, that’s good, that’s, fuck me, that’s _amazing_ , please, _please_... a-and…” Jack gave a gentle push to Mark’s head, immediately grimacing at what implications Mark might take from the action and trying to arch his back instead.

_“Jackfuck!!”_

“Sorry, sorry,” Jack panted, petting Mark’s nipple apologetically before circling his fingers around it again. Not that he was certain that had been a bad squeal from Mark. He had _felt_ Mark’s dick twitch against him through their pants, and it was all Jack could do to stay coherent.

“It's okay. I liked it- just.. yeah.” Mark shook himself but then went right back to ravaging Jack against the wall.

“My… can you... “ Jack’s dick was _aching_ , and he really wasn’t going to last much longer, not if Mark rutted up against him again, but aside from some pressure from Mark’s abs, it had barely been touched. Jack knew Mark wouldn’t be able to curl his hand into Jack’s pants, and both of Jack’s hands were busy, so there was really only one other option. Mark’s mouth on his neck was delicious, but just as Mark’s nipples were sensitive and fun to play with, so too were Jack’s. “Your mouth… further down?”

“You want… n-not _that low,_ right? Just a little lower?” Mark trailed a bit lower over the top of Jack’s chest, pressing little kisses and dragging his teeth along the way.

“Yeah, no, yeah, just… just, _ah_ , Mark, Jesus, just my nips, not _there_ …” Jack squeezed his eyes shut as he gasped and panted, Mark’s teeth scraping along his skin and lighting fresh fires to feed the heat collecting in his groin. “M-Mark… _ohhh…_ ”

“Hang on, hang on.” Mark dragged his teeth over Jack’s collarbone.

Jack whined again, not even entirely sure himself what was setting him off. He was wound so tight already, from the novelty of the position, from Mark’s dick against his ass, Mark’s mouth on his skin, so of _course_ any additional touch would send shivers down his back, his fingers clutching and rubbing at whatever parts of Mark he could find. He cried his boyfriend’s name in a fraying voice, _needing_ something that he couldn’t vocalize. His brain was gabbling incoherently at him, and all Jack knew was that something, a great, big, unknown _something_ was missing.

Mark always said that Jack knew him so well, but the same was _absolutely_ true in reverse. Mark thrust up hard against Jack’s ass, his dick pressing into Jack’s tight jeans, and he bit into Jack’s collarbone, _hard_. The two sensations combined ripped a wail from Jack’s lungs as he arched away from the wall again, his dick jumping in his pants as he came _hard_. Jack’s fingers dug into Mark’s scalp as he tensed and jerked, but every single atom of his body was breathing a heavy sigh of contentment and relief.

Jack sagged in Mark’s hold, boneless and pliant against the wall. His head drooped down to Mark’s hair, where he panted wetly into the dark strands. “Oooh, _Mark…_ ” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Oh _god_. Love…”

It was hard to restart his brain after having it blown across the fucking wall by Mark (heh, _fucking_ wall, because they were just fucking against it… that was funny, right?), but Jack was slowly trying to piece together his senses. Mark was shifting and hugging him now, pinning him more with hips and chest than he was holding Jack up. Jack grunted softly, dragging his hands away from Mark’s chest and hair to curl his arms around Mark’s back, returning the embrace.

Mark was shivering against Jack’s chest, and Jack shushed him absently, nuzzling into his hair. “‘M here,” he mumbled, hugging Mark tightly with both arms _and_ legs, or at least as tightly as he could manage in his blissed-out state. “S’okay, M’rk, ‘m here.” Had _Mark_ cum? Jack wasn’t sure. He _knew_ he didn’t have the coordination to do a little wiggle and try to find Mark’s dick with his ass. “‘F yer gonna drop me, can it be on the bed?”

Mark drew another ragged breath against Jack’s neck. He nuzzled there and gave a nod to show he understood before carefully peeling them both away from the wall. It was an awkward few steps to the bed, and Mark let Jack flop back over the duvet.

Jack sprawled across the bed, blinking up at the ceiling before Mark joined him. Mark cuddled up close to him, pressing their legs together, hiding his face in Jack’s neck again. Jack’s arms found their way around Mark’s chest, worming under his side, and Jack tipped his head down to kiss his dark head. “Love you,” he murmured. He trailed his fingers up and down Mark’s spine, slowly letting his breathing return to normal. His head cleared as his panting evened out, and he was slowly growing aware of how distant Mark was, simultaneously cuddled close on top and keeping a healthy amount of space between their lower halves.

Frowning, Jack glanced down between them, needing to strain up a bit to see over Mark’s head. There was still a tent in Mark’s pants. He _hadn’t_ cum. Jack frowned. “Mark?” He laid down full again, snuggling back against his boyfriend. This time, he hooked a foot around Mark’s shin, tugging at least his legs a little closer. “Mark, you okay, love?”

Mark squeezed at Jack best he could, his face almost painfully pressed into Jack’s throat. “I just.. I’m… I’m a little overwhelmed. Sorry. Give me a minute. I’ll be okay again.”

“Okay,” Jack murmured, tilting his head toward Mark again to kiss his hair. “Okay. Tell me… tell me if there’s anything I can do. I hope I can make you feel this good someday.” He closed his eyes and pressed his smile against Mark’s head. “Make you feel so weightless and _happy_ and _good_ … that, Mark, that was the _best_ orgasm I’ve ever had. Nothing else even comes close. You were… you know me so well. Fuck, Mark, you know me better than _I_ know me…”

Jack kept his voice low and quiet, whispering his praise into Mark’s hair as he rubbed his boyfriend’s back in little circles. He didn’t try to pull Mark closer, just held him and talked to him, told him how _good_ everything had been and how much he loved Mark. He loved _this_ , just getting to hold Mark, even if his cum was drying in his pants and sleep was threatening to creep up on him. He forced his eyes open, refusing to give in to the sleep until he knew Mark really was okay.

Pouting slightly, Mark finally dragged one of his hands down toward his own crotch. “Love you. Wanna know you _more._ Wanna know more of you than anything, want… want to feel you, Jack… Jack…touch me, please.”

“You’re going to,” Jack murmured. He let his hands slowly slip apart, tracing his circles across to Mark’s sides and then his belly. “Mark, you’re gonna know me better than _anyone_. You’re gonna find all the ways to make me fall apart, and all the ways to put me back together. You’re gonna learn how I taste and feel, every _inch_ of me.” Jack kept dusting kisses through Mark’s hair as he talked, but his hands had reached Mark’s stomach now, drawing nails very gently up those abs, pushing higher. He flattened his hands across Mark’s pecs, rubbing his palms over hard nipples, before drawing back to flick them with his fingertips as he kept talking.

“You’re gonna pick me up again and press me against a wall, hear me beg for _you_. You’re gonna get me naked in bed, _this_ bed, between my legs, touching me where _no one_ else ever has. You’re gonna make me fall apart in a thousand ways, each one new and amazing, each time with _your_ name on my lips, in my head, in my heart.”

Jack wasn’t sure how dirty dirty talk could go with Mark right now, so he tried to keep his promises for the future vague enough so Mark could picture them without actually saying things like dick or ass. He tried to make the scenes more about their _love_ than their _lust_ as he played with Mark’s nipples and murmured promises into his hair. Mark was groaning softly into his skin as he spoke. “Jack… Jack.. I want.. w-wanna kiss you. Want… hold me? _”_

“Of course, Mark, of course.” Jack pushed his hands around Mark's back, beneath the rumpled dress shirt he still wore. He folded his arms around Mark, hugging him close as he nuzzled down to find Mark's lips with his own.

“I love you,” he whispered when their mouths weren't pressed together.

“I adore you.

“I cherish you.

“Love.

“You're my love.

“My beloved.

“I love you.”

Each statement was whispered against Mark's lips, soft promises that rang with sincerity. Jack held Mark against his bare chest and kissed him over and over again as Mark worked his hand inside his pants to finish himself off.

Mark clutched hard at Jack’s back, trying to keep up with Jack’s kisses. Jack cradled Mark close, coaxing him through his soft orgasm and reassuring him that Jack was still there, still holding him, still _loving_ him. Climaxing was still difficult for Mark. The Ship Sinker had worked hard to drill feelings of disgust and shame into Mark whenever they forced a orgasm from him, and those lessons had stuck. Mark could rarely _completely_ lose himself in the pleasure, instead always being on-edge and waiting for the inevitable mocking or punishment. Love was the best counter they had found. Jack made sure he was always available to hold Mark after he came, to wrap around him and reassure him that this was _good_ , it was allowed to _be_ good, and Jack was right there, _right there_ , holding Mark and loving him and never judging him for falling apart.

Times like these, where Jack had recovered enough to be coherent as Mark came and not trying desperately to get off himself, were few and far between. Usually, Jack was able to make sure Mark came first, that Mark was taken care of before he even considered letting go of his rapidly decreasing self-control. When Jack _was_ coherent for Mark’s climax… well, times like these were when Jack hated the Ship Sinker the most. It was bad enough that they scarred Mark’s body and humiliated him in front of the entire world, showing him off as little more than an _object_ to be coveted and toyed with, but to destroy _this_ , the simple ability to feel pleasure? To _enjoy_ pleasure?

Jack closed his eyes and squashed his negativity down. Mark needed him. Mark needed him to be present and with him. “I love you,” he whispered into Mark’s mouth. “I love you so much.”

Mark pressed one more kiss to Jack’s lips before fully breaking away. He was slowly relaxing against Jack even with tears on his face from his emotional climax. He grimaced when he was calm again. “...we should really clean up, but I don’t wanna move….”

“If _someone_ didn’t lie all sexy-like on the bed, maybe we could have done some better prepping…” Jack kissed the tip of Mark’s nose. “If you let go of me, I can get us cleaned up. Then we can cuddle all night long. Sound good?” His own briefs were sticky and starting to dry crustily against his hairs, and it was gonna be a _bitch_ to pull off, but he could get Mark clean pyjamas and a cloth to wash up with before it got too bad for him.

Mark pouted. “I needed to redeem myself after that screw up in the living room. Besides, you _loved it._ ” Mark wiggled his nose, then scrunched it up as he managed to worm his hand free from his pants. “...okay. But I’m holding you to the cuddling part. There has _got_ to be a better way to do this….”

“Couple ways…” Jack gave Mark one last squeeze before rolling away and climbing out of bed. “We _could_ get naked _before_ we cum, and not after. Or we could just bring a washcloth in here in advance. Just assume we’re gonna get hot and bothered and have it on standby.” He rolled his arms and shoulders and grinned at Mark. “But you’re right. I _did_ love it.”

“I’d be all for the naked plan except we’re still working on the whole ‘letting me see dicks’ thing. Remember? The washcloth probably isn’t a bad idea, though….”

Jack knew getting naked with Mark wasn’t a viable option, but it _was_ an option, so he had to mention it. He went to the dresser and dug fresh night clothes out for Mark, tossing them lightly to the bed. “I’ll hang your pants when I get back. Your shirt’s beyond salvaging…” It would need to be ironed at the _very_ least, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to wash it. Good thing they almost never had a reason to dress formally. “Try not to fall asleep before I get back.”

Mark snorted from the bed. “It’s all right, I’ll just buy another one. And no promises….” He smiled and stretched lazily across the bed, clearly in a much better state of mind.

Jack smirked, loving how relaxed Mark looked, and took that mental image with him as he pulled out fresh clothes for himself and went into the bathroom to clean up quickly and change.

His groin was still a little damp (and cold, he didn’t wait for the water to warm up before he cleaned himself) in his pyjamas, but the cloth he brought back for Mark was warm, and he also brought a towel Mark could use to dry himself off with. He came around Mark’s side of the bed and hesitated a little when he saw Mark was pantsless and sitting in just his boxers on the edge of the bed. Wow. That was more of Mark’s bare legs than Jack had been allowed to see in _months_. His cheeks were a little pink as he handed over the washcloth and towel. “I’ll, uh… want me to leave the room? Or just turn around?”

Mark was quick to accept the amenities as he cleared his throat. “You can, uh… turn around. Just.. give me some space? I’ll tell you when it’s okay to look.”

“Okay…” Jack turned around, then stuck his hand out behind him. “Uh, if you give me your pants, I can take care of them while you get cleaned up and changed?” He wouldn’t look at Mark. He could hang his slacks up in the wardrobe without peeking at his boyfriend.

After a few seconds, Mark piled the garment into Jack’s hand. “No peeking. It’ll only be a minute.”

“No peeking,” Jack agreed. He brought the slacks around to his front, shaking them out and folding them before he walked away from Mark, careful to not even turn his head a little. He went to the wardrobe and took out a hanger. Mark’s clothes hung beside Jack’s, and they were in his dresser and his hamper. Mark had a side of _their_ bed and in _their_ recording space, and things in _their_ bathroom and they shared shampoo and soap and Mark still smelled mostly of Mark but a bit of Jack now, and Jack’s hands stuttered as he hung Mark’s slacks and put them away, squeezing his eyes shut against the influx of emotion.

They were living together. (Well, _duh,_ his brain supplied helpfully.) But not just sharing a house, they were _living together_. As partners. A couple. Mark’s life had wrapped itself around Jack’s life, intertwining the two, and they were _together_. As official as they could get without coming out. Jack ducked his head a little, hoping Mark was almost done, because he _really_ needed to hug his boyfriend right now.

“Okay, you’re good. Thanks for that.”

Jack turned around at Mark’s relieved sigh and crossed the room quickly, climbing back onto the bed and wrapping his arms around Mark. He didn’t say anything, just burrowed into the crook of Mark’s neck and hugged him tight. Mark was _here_. Living with him. This was _real_. It was _happening_. Jack wanted to cry, but he was also happy, and he hated feeling so confused.

For a second, Mark was tense, but he soon relaxed and slipped his arms around Jack’s waist to return the hug. Gently, he pressed an affectionate kiss to Jack’s brown hair. “Hey there. You okay?? Sorry I made you wait.”

Jack nodded, taking several deep breaths. “I just… this is _real_. What we’re doing. You… we’re living together. _Together_ together. And I just… it kinda all hit me at once.” He turned his head enough to press a kiss to Mark’s neck. “I love you, Mark. I love having you here. This isn’t… it’s not a bad. It’s just a bit overwhelming.”

Mark rubbed a hand up and down along the curve of Jack’s spine and let Jack tuck up beneath his chin. “I love you too. It’s okay, Jack. I get it. Trust me, if there’s anyone that _gets_ being overwhelmed by something that seems really stupid…I’m really glad. That we can be here together; like this. I… I don’t care what anyone else thinks of it. I love you, and I love _this;_ this thing we’ve made. Our life together.”

Jack nuzzled at Mark’s neck and nodded his agreement. _Their life together._ That was perfect. Everything was perfect. Almost everything. “Let’s get under the duvet,” he said, kissing Mark’s skin again, “and I want to hold you until we both fall asleep.”

“Not if I hold you first.” Mark pressed a kiss to the top of Jack’s head. “Hold on to me.”

It took some effort and awkward maneuvering, but Mark managed to tug them both back into the center of the bed. He flopped them down onto the mattress with a bit more force than necessary and giggled in response. “Oops. Sorry. Here-” There was more wiggling, grunting and the slight flailing of limbs as both men worked their way under the covers. They came back together in a heartbeat once the duvet had settled over their shoulders. Mark tucked himself around Jack’s body, nosing into Jack’s green hair. “Better. G’night, Jack….”

“Good night, Mark.” Jack smiled as he nuzzled back into Mark’s shoulder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	45. Day 216: On the Topic of Dicks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark has problems. Jack wants to help.

“I’m so fucking hopeless….”

“You said it, not me.” Jack had finished his recordings for the day and responded to as many asks, tweets, and comments as he could manage before needing a break. He drank a glass of water and then went in search of his boyfriend. Since Chica was missing, Mark was probably out in the garden. Jack came up beside him just in time to hear Mark’s despair.

The garden was _Mark’s_ territory. Jack was welcome in it, and he had his spot under the willow, but the rest of the garden meant that Mark was in his own sanctuary. Jack laid claim to the recording room. Mark was welcome to record on his own rig, but he didn’t casually game in there like Jack did. He had a laptop in the spare room or the living room tv for that.

Mark jerked his face out of his hands in surprise. “Jack..”

Jack sat beside Mark and rested his head on Mark’s shoulder, looking up at him with big blue eyes. “Hi. I missed you. Just wanted to say hi before getting back to work. You okay out here?” Sometimes Mark went to sit in the garden just because he enjoyed it, but mostly he went into the garden because he was stressing about something. If he wasn’t under the willow, Jack didn’t want to overstay his welcome, but Mark’s groan and posture implied that there really was something weighing heavily on Mark’s mind.

Mark’s arm slid around Jack’s waist, and Mark leaned in to rest his cheek against Jack’s hair. “Hi. Missed you too. Sorry, I’ve just been… thinking. I’m okay.” Frowning with an uncomfortable furrow etched into his brow, Mark scraped his heels gently along the grass. His fingers pressed into the spot just beneath Jack’s ribs. “...Jack….” He licked anxiously at his lips. “...there’s something I really wanna do, but I don’t know how I can do it. And it’s gonna end up driving me crazy.”

Mark’s arm around Jack’s waist was permission to linger. Jack let his own arm wrap around Mark’s, mirroring the position. “Oh? What is it? Maybe I can help you figure out a way?”

Anxious to _do_ something was far better than anxiety over something _done_ to him. Was Mark thinking about sex stuff? Or… no, not everything was about their sex life, as amazing as it was these days. (Jack was aware it was still a far cry from a _normal_ sex life, but compared to the drought he’d been in before the Ship Sinker stuff went down, it was pretty damn incredible.) Maybe Mark was thinking about getting out more, doing more stuff on his own. Or thinking about going home.

Probably wasn’t thinking about going home. Mark seemed to have as much desire to go home as Jack did. This cottage _was_ their home. Not some big house in L.A. Here.

Mark was relaxing against Jack’s side, fingers picking at the plants around them. “I want... Jack, I want to see you. I mean, _really_ see you. _All_ of you. I want… you to be able to take your pants off, and your underwear. Whether we're doing something sexual or just cuddling or _whatever._ I want to know what you look like- _really_ look like- when you're lost in the things I'm doing, in me, and I'm driving you nuts to the point you're screaming about it- about _me._ I want to know what that looks like... what _you_ look like. I want us to be able to enjoy ourselves and not constantly feel uncomfortable in our clothes. I want to be naked in front of you Jack and not feel vulnerable because it's so _wrong._ It's not fair that they made me so fucking scared of this crap and I just… I want to fix it. I want to _do_ it, more than anything. But I don't... I just don't know _how.”_ Mark’s voice pitched into a slight whine at the end. His expression crumpled in frustration.

It _was_ a sex thing after all. Jack nuzzled against Mark's shoulder, letting Mark calm his breathing before he replied. “I want that too, Mark. I don't _need_ it, you know there's no pressure, but…” He sighed. “It would be nice if laundry wasn't quite so...crusty.” Mark snorted at that.

A kiss against Mark's shoulder accented the jape, and Jack tightened his arm around Mark's waist. “I guess...If that's what you want to work on next, we should break it down. What starts your anxieties? You being naked? Me being naked? Naked...naked dicks in general? Like...If it weren't sexual, if you just walked in on me changing my pants or something, would that be triggering?”

“I don't.. You being naked isn't really a problem. It's just you. I've seen you in your underwear before and it's not like.. not like **_they_** ever fully stripped for me.” Mark’s arm tightened around Jack’s waist as he thought. “It's… more your dick. Any dick. Just thinking about seeing one, it's... I don't know if it'd even be funny for me anymore. Like it used to. Because seeing a dick always meant…”

 _Bad things._ Jack knew how Mark couldn’t finish his sentence, but Mark pressed on.

“And- and me being naked. Because... because I'm vulnerable. And exposed. And being naked let them take advantage of _everything._ They could _see_ ** _everything._** I couldn't hide anything from them and it took me _so long_ to get used to clothes again but at the same time it was this huge security blanket because I was _dressed._ I was covered and safe and no one could see what my body was doing but Jack-” Mark took a deep breath as he hugged himself with his free arm. “...I _want_ to see you. I want _you_ to see _me._ I want us to make each other happy without me being afraid or us never being able to take off our pants. You're so damn important to me…”

“So...dicks and you being naked.” Jack reached over with his free hand to set it on Mark's. “That's...okay. I think that's doable. We just have to desensitize you to dicks again, and you don't...You don't have to match me clothes for clothes. And we can always pull a blanket over us, if that helps you get used to being naked while still being covered. Without being exposed. We could even...like how we did with the collar. Baby steps, overnight. Maybe you try taking your pants off and leaving your boxers on under the duvet. I don't see anything, you don't show anything, no sex, but...It's a start.”

“‘Desensitize me to dicks’ oh god that sounds so stupid.” Mark sighed and turned his hand so he could squeeze at Jack’s. “I think… I think I could manage that. Having no pants on under the covers. I.. I did try that, a few days ago. Having my pants off in front of you. It… sort of worked? I think it is important, to like… Try getting me okay with being naked again, without the sex being there. I need to… I _need_ to associate no clothes as okay and not always relating to… that.”

“I could too,” Jack offered. “Take my pants off at night. Or sleep shirtless. Just get you accustomed to _me_ , without making it about sex.” Stroking his thumbs against Mark’s, Jack considered the issue of dicks. “We could pull up some old videos with dick jokes, or…” Jack snickered against Mark's shoulder. “We could look up some porn, make fun of the cheesy acting? Dicks on a screen can't hurt you, right? And if we watch porn, we'll stay clothed. One step at a time. No point in rushing.”

“It's not talking about them that freaks me out, it's…” Mark paused to consider porn. “I… guess that might work. We could try it, at least. I haven't… tried watching anything, since I came back. Didn't see a point and sort of just figured it'd freak me out but… if you're there, and I start to panic, you can make sure we stop. And you can stop me from losing it. So I think it'd be okay. To try.” Mark gave a little nod.

Just the fact that Mark was open to the idea of porn or fewer clothes at night was a good thing. Jack smiled and squeezed Mark's side again. “Whenever you're ready, we can try something. However slow it goes, it's still progress.”

“Baby steps, right? I guess just because I'm further along in my recovery process that doesn't mean it's not a valid thing anymore.” Mark shot Jack a gentle little smile; squeezing back. His fingertips had tucked themselves neatly along Jack’s ribs as if they belonged there.

After a while of comfortable silence, Mark gave a little nod. “...I wanna try it tonight. The porn thing. While I'm still all ramped up about the idea, y’know? We don't have to do anything else. We’ll just put some on and.. and see how it goes. Fully clothed.”

“Gay or straight porn?” Jack asked, humming thoughtfully. “I've never actually watched any gay porn. Closest I've gotten is Septiplier stuff in the Jacksepticeye tag, and that's just...weird.”

“Oh. Uh… I mean yeah, I guess gay would make more sense. More dicks-” Mark snerked softly. “-like you said and… well, I mean. It wouldn't hurt to get an idea about… what we’ll be doing. When we get that far.” Mark released Jack’s hand to comb fingers through his hair. “I always just tried to avoid the art for it. I mean, it was entertaining reading the bad fanfiction sometimes but the art just weirded me out too. Wonder how accurate it is compared to how we've actually been doing things….” It was more a tease than an actual curiosity.

“Yeah, I don't seek it out, but some people tag it anyway. You're usually on top.” Jack wrinkled his nose. Why wasn't he drawn as top more often?

Because Mark's dick pressing against his ass made him cum harder than he ever had before. Jack flushed and snuggled against Mark's side.

“Yeah. It's the same with the fanfiction. I'm surprised they haven't been drawing it more the other way around after…” Mark stirred uncomfortably against Jack’s side.

Jack was always flattered when he was paired with Mark, but seeing actual _porn_ of himself and his best friend (even now that they were boyfriends) was always unsettling.

“Gay porn probably has more dicks. I bet we can find some ridiculous ones on YouPorn or RedTube, though. Something smuttier than ‘sexy interracial man gets slapped by two Europeans.’"

When Mark got the reference, he snorted. “Does Felix even count as ‘European’ since he's Swedish? Plus the Irishman in that one’s hot as Hell too. They should fix the title.” Mark rubbed at the back of his neck. “Though, Jack…”

“Hmm?” Mark was struggling with something, and Jack wordlessly offered encouragement.

Mark shifted to curl a bit better into Jack. He buried his face in Jack’s green hair. “Jack… What’re... what do you think the chances are that… the videos. The ones from the- that fucking website. What do you think the odds are that…”

Jack was quiet, knowing what Mark was asking. He sat up to better cradle Mark against his chest, letting Mark hide in his neck. “You know what they say about the internet,” he said quietly, sadly. “Once it's there, it's there forever.”

“Never thought I'd have a reason to hate that saying…” Mark’s hands shifted to gripping at Jack’s shirt as he fully turned into Jack’s chest. He scooted until he was practically sitting in Jack’s lap.

Sick, sick people had undoubtedly saved those photos and videos. _Fans_ had, to share Mark's status with each other. _Jack_ had, while Mark was in that room (though he had long since deleted them all and reformatted the thumb drive). Of course fetishists were grabbing them while they were up, saving them, spreading them around. Jack's arms tightened around Mark, as if he could protect him just by holding him. “If we...If we do the porn thing, I'll find videos. Just in case…” The occasional image still cropped up in the main tags, though Jack hadn't had to filter them for Mark nearly as much as he used to. The porn sites were new, though. Jack was no stranger to porn, but ever since Mark had been tortured, Jack hadn't felt up to masturbation. His interest had returned with Mark's health, but now he had Mark himself and didn’t really need porn's help. Jack wasn't sure how many of Mark's videos had been uploaded to those sites.

“Okay… Okay. We can try. I want to try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	46. Night 216: Trigger Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was only a matter of time before their forays into sex triggered something.

The rest of the day was surprisingly normal despite talking about porn in the garden with Mark. Jack went back inside to keep working, and Mark putzed around in the garden and then went to make his own video. His channel was active again, and almost as consistent as it used to be, though the videos tended to be shorter and simpler. Mark was still overcoming obstacles. Jack was proud of him for getting at least one new video up a day, even if he had no such thing as a schedule. It was _Mark’s channel_. If it was all over the place, it was on Mark. It had nothing to do with Jack, no matter how much it made his skin itch.

By the time the sun was setting, Jack was feeling squirmy. While most of Jack’s afternoon had been spent doing work, he had also spent an hour or so poking around on porn sites to compile a list of potential videos to watch with Mark. He kept them muted, but he looked for ones that at least had halfway decent videography. No point inviting motion sickness on top of everything else stressful about this.

Jack got ready for bed in the bathroom like usual, but he brought his laptop to bed this time. He opened it up and clicked over to the porn site. “Still want to try this tonight?” he asked Mark, not yet turning the computer to face the other man.

Mark fidgeted with the duvet where he was tucked up beneath it. The edge of it pooled messily in his lap as he sat beside Jack on their shared bed. Mark drew a breath that filled his lungs to the brim and let his eyes settle firmly on Jack’s. “Let’s do this.” A pause. “...hold my hand?”

“Of course.” Jack scooted over beneath the duvet and wrapped his arm around Mark’s waist, then turned the computer to rest on their laps. “Okay, so… I already vetted these kinda, but I did it muted, so I don’t know what they’re actually saying. I guess we’ll just… find out together. And I only watched the first couple of minutes, to make sure the camera person knew how to use a camera. Ready?” He clicked one open, made it fullscreen, and then reached over to take Mark’s hand with his free one.

The first video Jack had found had the participants mercifully dressed to start with. He squeezed Mark’s hand reassuringly. “If you need it stopped, just let me know. Or if you want to skip it and try a different one. My browser history for today is _terrifying._ ”

Mark found Jack’s hand and interlocked their fingers. “Yeah… yeah, I’m ready.”

The video started out tame enough. Just a rather attractive, muscular guy with blond hair laying on a couch taking “seductive selfies”. Mark relaxed minutely against Jack. “Okay. Okay, I’m fine right now. You can clear your browser history later. Hilarious as it’d be for anyone to find out you had a gay porn marathon today.”

Jack snorted softly, nuzzling against Mark's hair. “I'd say it was for you if anyone asks. 'Oh, Markiplier wanted me to look some up…’ Everyone will believe me…”

“Bull-honkey. I’m the straightest man there ever was to straight, Jack. Straighter than an arrow.”

The video was still rolling at a pretty tame pace. The introductory sequence was slow. The blond’s dick didn’t make an appearance until a good minute or so in and the first thing he did with it was take pictures. Mark turned to bury a snicker in Jack’s neck. “How bored do you have to be…?”

“I dunno, Mark. I've wondered that myself about some of your Instagram pics…” Jack grinned, kissing Mark's hair. This was definitely a good start. He hoped the rest of the scene was as sweet.

“Hey now. Posing and showing a little leg is _not_ the same as just taking a bunch of dick pics.” Mark kissed at Jack’s neck and continued in a whisper, “Besides, you _liked_ my Instagram pics….”

Yes. Yes, Jack did like Mark’s instagram pics. And the private ones Mark sent to just his friends that made Wade shout at him to stop sending him nudes. Not that Mark had _been_ nude in that infamous robe picture. It had just been very close. And Jack had let himself indulge in a fantasy or two…

“I guess if he's taking the pics for someone else…?” Jack turned his attention back to the scene unfolding. “Oh look, he does have a boyfriend after all. We've never kissed over the couch like that…” The dick-selfie guy was being kissed upside-down over the couch, and his boyfriend was petting at his chest and reaching down to ‘help’ between his legs. Jack glanced at Mark for his reaction.

“I hope you don’t want _me_ to send you that many pictures of my junk. I mean, that’s just _excessive._ ” Mark let his chin rest on Jack’s shoulder. His cheeks puffed out a bit. “We should try that. I wanna kiss you upside-down like Spiderman. But without the mask and all the rain. Oh- fuck. That was a jarring edit holy shit. Zero out of fucking ten.”

Jack kissed one of Mark’s puffed cheeks. “We can try tomor-shit, that was after the point I stopped watching. Damn, that’s a _bad_ jump cut. I did better when I was first learning! Good god, where does porn get its editors!?”

“Not YouTube, clearly.” Mark’s nose was still lightly scrunched in distaste. At least the scene was nice. The music was more romantic than pure porny, and blond’s boyfriend was very tenderly removing his shirt, kissing him more than anything else. Mark kissed at Jack’s neck but was quickly distracted by the video again.

“Oh my _fucking_ ** _god_** Jack Jack that is _not_ a penis that is a literal log hanging off that dude’s junk I cannot-” The shock in Mark’s voice was almost comical. “Oh _god._ ”

“ _Jesus fucking Christ!_ ” Jack’s eyes went wide at the sight of the huge dick on the pornstar. “God, Mark, you’d better not be that big…” But of course Mark wasn’t. Jack had seen Mark’s dick. (He’d felt it through his jeans too.) It wasn’t ridiculously oversized. (It was perfect. Jack didn’t think he could say that out loud. Not yet.)

“That poor guy...who’d ever want that monster up their butts? Or which sort of girl? Jesus…” Jack hugged Mark a little closer, glad he had a human boyfriend and not a sex-god one.

Mark sputtered. “ _No way._ I’m not even ashamed to say that. I am _nowhere_ ** _near_** that big, Jack. Oh my god. Oh my _god_ I couldn’t handle carrying that thing around how does that guy even put on _pants???_ ” He shuddered and clung to Jack, frowning as the music cut-off. “That was literally the best part of this video why would you get rid of itoh _mygod Jack he’s gonna_ ** _suck it._** ” The horror was clear in Mark’s tone and face as the blond went in for a blowjob. His voice dipped into a strained whisper as if the two men could hear them through the screen. _“Is his jaw gonna unhinge like a fucking snake??”_

 _Jack's_ jaw dropped as blond began a blowjob, but then the boyfriend spoke and Jack just lost it. “Wow,” he parroted in the same bored tone as the actor, “I love how you suck my dick.” He was laughing again, curling against Mark as his shoulders shook. “Jesus, dude, try to be a _little_ happy your boyfriend isn't terrified of your anaconda!”

He leaned over to kiss Mark's hair. “You are much better at the dirty talk than he is. You never make me feel like it's a chore for you to receive anything I do.”

Mark’s grimace broke into a grin and he snorted with amusement. “Ohmygod.” He started to giggle while he nuzzled affectionately at the side of Jack’s head. “My dirty talk might be bad but at least it always has feeling! If I found someone that _wanted_ to put their mouth on my dick at _that_ size I'd be _the most_ grateful man alive.” Mark let his voice dip into a low register but kept it flat, leaning to whisper in Jack’s ear. “Wow, Jack. I love how you kiss my nipples.”

Even stoic, Mark's deep voice was sexy as all fuck, curling up in Jack's lap far more effectively than the porn. Jack turned to look at Mark, torn between arousal and disbelief. Dammit, Mark, now Jack _wanted_ to kiss his nipples...

Thankfully, Mark was distracted by the scene again. A slight furrow entered Mark’s brow. “...I feel like I shouldn't be so weirded out that he actually _likes_ giving that guy a blowjob but….”

Jack swallowed and looked back at what Mark was talking about. Blond really was getting into sucking on that monster cock. “Maybe they really are boyfriends in real life,” Jack said. “Maybe big guy really likes this but he's not supposed to be all emotive for the porn, so blond is deliberately trying to make him fall apart.”

“...I mean, I like making _you_ fall apart. I guess I can understand that….” While Mark’s words were cheeky, he sounded confused beneath them as he tried to wrap his mind around what he was watching. “But.. I also like making you feel good. They're kinda one in the same except it's way more fun when you just absolutely _lose it._ ”

“You've had blowjobs before. They feel _really_ good, remember? Maybe blond just likes knowing that he's making someone else feel that good. I mean…” Jack's face went pink, but he continued. Mark was his boyfriend now. They could be very open with each other. “I always liked...liked eating out my girlfriends, because of how I could get them to react, you know? When they really got into it, and it was because of _me_...head rush, man.”

“I mean… yeah, I've done that.. once or twice.” Mark mumbled. Jack wasn't the only one pink anymore. “...never enjoyed it as much as I have with you, though. Uh. Making you react, and really get into it, I mean. Not oral.” Mark went a deeper red and hid his head in the side of Jack’s neck again, just barely peeking out at the video. Quietly, he nosed up beneath Jack’s chin and whispered, “...do you want to do that to me, Jack? Do you wanna get me into it; see how I react? You think you'd get the same head rush if I got to a point where I could let you?” There was genuine curiosity in Mark’s voice as he pressed a tender kiss to Jack’s pulse point.

 _Did_ Jack want to do that to Mark? Suck his dick, toy with his balls, make him grunt and moan and fall to pieces?

_Absolutely._

Jack envisioned Mark standing over him, thrusting his not-monster cock between Jack's lips and his mouth actually began to water at the thought. He shifted a little, trying to adjust himself without releasing Mark, and nodded. “I _already_ get a head rush making you fall apart,” he confessed. “I'd love to make you really let go, to get you naked and relaxed and feeling oh so amazing. I don't know...I have the worst gag reflex known to man, so I don't know if I'd be able to do _that_ , but I'd find some other way…”

Still bright red and resembling Christmas, Jack nuzzled down against Mark's hair. “Do _you_ want me to do that?” he asked. “Wrap my mouth around your dick and suck you off?”

 _“Fuck.”_ Mark squirmed beneath the duvet and bit down on his lip. “They.. they never. Said it was ‘too gay’, isn't that a fucking riot, or that I didn't deserve it. I don't think… I don't think it'd be a risk, if you tried. I don't know. I get nervous when I think about anyone else touching me.. there, so. But…” Mark buried his face into Jack’s shoulder. “...yeah. Yeah, I'd want to try that….”

“After everything they did, _that_ was too gay?” Jack muttered, shaking his head. He pressed kisses to the top of Mark's head, letting him hide. “I love you. I love you, and whenever you're ready, we can try. _When you're ready._ ”

Jack glanced back at the porn and jumped a little at the sudden change in position. “ _Jesus_! Transitions are not your enemy!” Blond was crouched over the couch, ass up, and boyfriend's fingers were buried up to his knuckles. Jack's eyes were as huge as blond's stretched ass, and he involuntarily clenched up anyway.

Mark glanced back at the screen at Jack’s shout, his face going _bright_ red. He tucked himself closer to Jack, face scrunched up in disgust as the fingering man spit on his “boyfriend’s” ass. “Gross. What the fuck. Why would you even do that? As if having fingers up your butthole wouldn't be bad enough, you don't have to go and spit on the poor guy….”

“Maybe it's a sexy thing for gay men?” Jack twisted a little to hug Mark properly, feeling him tense in his arms. “Remember, this is just porn. It's exaggerated and not meant to actually be what _feels_ good, just what _looks_ good. We don't have to do what they do.”

Jack leaned down to kiss at Mark's face now that he wasn't hiding it, trying to encourage him into a proper kiss. “I love you, okay? I won't spit on you, and you don't spit on me.”

The spitting probably wasn't as much of a problem for Mark as the fingering. Blond, at least, seemed into it, and boyfriend wasn't just ramming into him. He seemed to be taking his time and ensuring blond would be ready for his monster cock.

“Guess I'm just Jacksexual then.” Mark burrowed down into Jack’s arms with a little nod. “Doesn't even look all that good to me.” Mark’s tone was childish and pouty.

“Oh, it doesn't?” Jack smirked a little, then leaned in close to Mark's burrowed head, dropping his voice to his own lower register. He wasn't able to go as deep as Mark, but he could still get a little rumble in it. “You can't imagine bending me over the couch? Spreading me open with your fingers until I'm begging for it, for _you_? You don't think that will be good?” Jack's face was bright red, but he had committed to this, so he kept going. There was still a twist of nervousness at the thought, but this was all hypothetical anyway. “Because _I_ do. I remember how I felt with you pinning me against the wall. How much I _wanted_ you to fuck me. How much I _still_ want that…”

“Oh what the _Hell,_ Jack. The sexy voice is _my_ thing. You can't try to use my own trick against me!” Mark bit his bottom lip and squirmed again. “ _Yes,_ I can imagine that, thanks. And if I get a boner now it's gonna be all your fault. You'd better be prepared to take responsibility. Maybe I _will_ bend you over something and use you like a finger puppet. Maybe I'll shove my not-monster-dick up your butt if you want it that bad.” He was red to his ears and huffing up a storm but the threats were empty. They both knew those acts were currently beyond him.

Sighing, Mark tried to give Jack a smile and snuck in a quick peck on the lips. “I love you.” He leaned in again; letting his tongue trace along the seam of them slowly and sensually. It was his turn to smirk. “Licking is better anyway.”

“Hell yeah it is…” Jack's eyes were wide, and he wasn't even going to try to deny his own boner. “Mark, you know…” Now it was Jack's turn to lean in for a kiss, freeing one hand to cup the side of Mark's face, “if at any point you want to turn off the porn and try a practical exercise, you just have to say the word…”

Mark hummed into Jack’s lips and was smiling easier when they pulled away. He leaned into the hand cupping his cheek with a soft little exhale. “Y’know, I think we managed to turn ourselves on more than that porn ever could. We didn't even have to try. I'm not sure if that's something to brag or feel silly about.” Mark giggled and blindly reached to stop the video; successful after a few awkward taps. He leaned in for another kiss and drew Jack’s hand to his chest. "I want this. I want you,” he said, but his smile was sad. “But my body's scarred. A lot. And it's scared. It'll take time, but... I want to make you happy. I want you to feel good. I want to make love to you, Jack. Even if you can't ever do it for me. Even if it's not right now. I want you to feel my love."

Jack returned Mark's kisses, slow and deep and unspoken declarations of love between them. He rubbed his fingers against Mark's chest, feeling his heartbeat, and kissed at the corner of his mouth. "I'm okay with that, Mark. With all of that. All of you. I love getting to do this. Getting to coax you through your fears, as you're ready to face them. I love making _you_ happy, love it when _you_ feel good. Don't ever..." Jack pressed his hand lightly against Mark's chest, leaning in to kiss him again. "Don't ever think you're not good enough for me, okay? Because I've seen you at your worst and I still love you."

Mark’s lips were wibbling from emotion but he wasn’t crying. “Jack.” He pulled Jack into a tight hug, burying his face in green hair to kiss and nuzzle against Jack’s scalp. "You're too damn good for me, you know that? How'd I ever get so lucky? Hugs aren't gonna ruin our boners, are they?”

“God, I hope not." Jack still melted against Mark whenever he got hugged like this, snuggling into Mark's chest and nuzzling at his neck. God, Mark always smelled _so damn good_. It wasn't fair. "I have _plans_ for our boners..."

Jack practically interrupted himself with his giggle, shaking his head. “And by ‘plans,’ I just mean getting you shirtless and kissing my way down your chest. Kissing your nipples, like you told me you loved with so much passion in your voice…” Jack _really_ just wanted to get his mouth on Mark's skin.

Mark shivered; swallowed hard. "God yes we can do that. You wanna move the laptop so we don't accidentally kick it off the bed? I'll... strip."

Jack stole one more kiss from Mark's lips. "The actors aren't nearly as hot as you anyway." He reached over to shut off the porn and closed the laptop. After leaning over the side of the bed to put it safely on the floor Jack turned back to Mark.

“Hey, that's my line." Mark was fingering the hem of his shirt when Jack turned back. The corner of his lips quirked into something a bit more inviting and alluring as he met Jack’s eyes. Slowly, Mark peeled the material up to reveal his newly muscled chest inch by tantalizing inch. He arched his back to flex the abdominal muscles at the bottom; clearly putting on a show for his lover.

Jack’s mouth went dry. He shouldn't watch, he _shouldn't_ but Mark was obviously showing off and _wanting_ him to, the naughty cocktease...

Jack settled on not moving closer, letting his eyes trace every inch of exposed skin without crowding Mark, as much as he desperately wanted to. Mark being adventurous always needed to be treated carefully to encourage it, not scare it away. Apparently, something about the porn and cuddling had sparked some bravery in his boyfriend, and Jack was _absolutely_ going to enjoy it while he could...until Mark got caught up in his shirt. It became tangled around his shoulders, head and biceps. Mark paused. Wiggled a little. Paused again. Finally, there came a quiet, partially muffled plea. "...Jaaaack... I'm stuck...."

Jack remained silent for a beat longer, glancing up at Mark hopelessly entangled in his own shirt, and then he started to snicker. "Oh my god you _nerd_." He moved to rescue Mark all the same, not climbing over Mark's legs like he wanted to, but scooting up next to his side to help him out of his shirt. "I love you, goober. Don't ever get smooth." He leaned in to kiss Mark's lips as soon as he had Mark's head free, discarding the shirt over the side of the bed and placing one hand possessively across Mark's bare chest.

Mark was pouting. "Don't laugh at me! You were all ga-ga over it until I got stuck."

"Oh trust me, I am still _very_ ga-ga over it," Jack purred, rubbing his fingers over Mark's skin before giving him a gentle push. "Lay back and let me love you? Goober?"

Mark's cheeks flushed a bright, cherry red. He took a second to stick out his tongue at Jack. "Takes a goober to love a goober, Mr. Booper Dooper. Ha." He smiled a bit, then scooted down so he could properly lean back. "Slow. Right?" His head and shoulders met the pillow, but then he abruptly propped himself back up onto elbows. "C-can you maybe take your shirt off too??"

"Never said otherwise." Jack playfully nipped at Mark's tongue before sitting back to pull his shirt off. It knocked his own glasses askew, and he scrunched up his nose as he fixed them. No strip tease here. He wasn't confident in his ability to not get caught in his shirt.  "Remember, let me know if you need something to change. I won't get upset." Jack looked Mark over and licked his lips at the delicious sight his boyfriend made. Nobody else got to see Mark like this. Nobody. He leaned in to catch Mark's lips first, his fingers tracing the line of Mark's beard, before he pulled away and began working himself down Mark's body. He kept his own body to the side, not straddling Mark, trying to give him as much space as he could.

Mark reached out to trace fingertips down Jack’s naked torso with a quiet awe. "So pretty." He sighed into Jack’s hair, his torso collapsing languidly back onto the bed. The hand closest to Jack felt up and down the naked parts of his body. "Your beard tickles."

"I don't think you actually know what pretty means. I am a ruggedly handsome manly man down to my bones." Jack knew he was considered very pretty-boy twinky. While he didn't understand what people liked about him so much (aside from his eyes, he'd admit he had pretty stunning eyes with the right camera), he was learning not to complain too much. Not to Mark. Mark wouldn't let him for a minute. Instead, he nipped lightly at Mark's throat with lips alone, having not yet dared to introduce anything firmer. His hands laid a path for his mouth, feeling out Mark's shoulders and chest, circling around dark nipples and tracing the lines of ribs and familiar scars. Jack chuckled at Mark's comment, lifting his head to rub his beard over Mark's collarbones. "So does yours, when you're doing this to me. It's _maddening_." And he loved it.

"Pretty." Mark repeated stubbornly. He was still smiling, though it became a bit distorted when his mouth opened for a low groan. One hand had hooked itself on the sharp jut of Jack's hip; the other fisted gently at their soft sheets. His chest rose semi-steadily with deep, slightly quickened breaths, then trembled with half-stifled giggles as Jack tormented him. Mark squirmed and bumped his chin against the top of Jack's head. "Huhuhuh stoppit, stop, you're ruining the mood you little Irish douche." Mark tilted his head forward to stare Jack down over the rims of his glasses. "My stubble's better. Just admit it."

"Am I, though?" Jack asked, following the scrape of stubble with a kitten flick of his tongue. "Is it? Should I shave? Go all baby-face on you? Make you feel like you're robbing the cradle when I do this to ya?" He closed his mouth over one of Mark's nipples, effectively shutting himself up to suck on his boyfriend's chest instead.

"Yes." Mark answered without hesitation. His voice was a little breathy from Jack's teasing. He shook his head and tightened his grip on pale skin. "Jesus, no. God. Fuck, Jack, baby you is adorable okay but the stubble ho _ohfuck_." Mark cried out; the words devolving into a soft whine. His chest wiggled a bit beneath Jack's mouth and he dug his heels into the bed. Panting, Mark forced himself to lift his head so he could see Jack. He groaned low at the sight. "So pretty."

"Tell me I'm handsome, Mark..." Jack circled his tongue around Mark's nipple, turning a wickedly teasing grin up at the other man. "Tell me I'm the rugged, manliest man you ever did see, excepting when you look in a mirror." He leaned in close, flicking his tongue over the the little bud of flesh, teasing Mark relentlessly.

“Nnghhnnn- y-you're handsome, Jack. Y-you are. I just… I think you're pretty. Too.” Mark groaned; lightly kicking his feet and tossing his head. “You're the manliest man ever, Jack, now stop teasing me! I'm gonna lose my mind over here. You _know_ I'm sensitive.” He whined and gently massaged his hand up Jack’s exposed side.

“Good enough,” Jack decided, blowing on the wet flesh to make Mark yip before sealing his mouth over it again, practically making out with Mark’s chest. He dragged his other hand over to find Mark’s neglected nipple, mimicking the movements of his tongue with his fingers as best he could. He murmured happily against Mark’s skin; he just tasted so damn good, as good as he smelled, better, even! And if his chest tasted this good, how would his dick… Jack’s flush went about ten shades darker as he suddenly returned to his earlier mental image of himself sucking on Mark’s cock, Mark’s hands in his hair and all his delicious sounds spilling out as he begged for Jack to... _godfuck_ he wanted to blow another man so bad that _Jack_ had to whine, pressing his tongue to Mark’s nipple.

“Jack… Jack, fuck, you and your stupid- ah!! Shit! That's cheating, Jack, that's… hnnnghhh….” Mark’s back arched up into the contact, hips following eagerly. “Jack….” Mark huffed hotly, skittering his fingers up Jack’s spine until they could tickle at the back of his neck. He cradled Jack’s head while Jack worked at Mark’s chest. Mark groaned again.

Jack shivered at the fingers ghosting up his back and pressing into his hair. He groaned as Mark gripped his head, light pulls on the short brown hair at the nape of his neck setting him deliciously alight. But Mark was moving, moving his hand lower, and Jack reached over to catch it, squeezing his fingers gently and pulling away from Mark’s chest as much as the other man would allow. “Mark...Mark, can I...can I?” He doubted Mark would let him slip his hand into Mark’s pants, much less pull them open to make some of their earlier fantasies a reality, but maybe, _maybe_ Mark would let him touch over his pants? Or maybe sucking him off _would_ be easier than touching, since Mark himself had said that they never did that in the room.

Mark startled and blushed as he stared wide-eyed at Jack. His gaze dropped down to the bulge in his pants, then trailed back up to Jack with a nervous swallow. “...y-you can try. Just… careful, please. I… I don't know how I'll react….”

Jack squeezed Mark’s fingers again, wiggling up until he was beside the other man. He leaned in to kiss him, pressing their mouths together over and over as he laced his fingers through Mark’s. With their hands still entwined, Jack reached down between Mark’s legs. He didn't touch, not yet. He just kissed the corner of Mark’s mouth, his cheek, his ear. “Show me how you like it?” he asked. He pulled his fingers free from Mark’s but pressed his whole hand up against Mark’s, letting the other man guide his touch.

Mark looked down at their fingers and swallowed hard. His breath stuttered again, hiccuped harder in his chest as he pressed their joined hands down. Mark’s groan hitched up into his nose and he shivered.

“Oh fuck, Mark…” Jack’s breathing was anything but regular as he finally, _finally_ was feeling his boyfriend’s dick with his fingers (and several layers of clothes), hard and hot and so very perfect. Jack bit his lip, watching their hands moving together, squeezing only when Mark’s fingers tightened over his, drinking in every rumbling groan or whimper from Mark’s lips. He had seen Mark’s dick before, more times than he wanted to, in photos and videos, in a cold Irish parking lot, in the bathroom while Mark huddled against the mirror. He had stolen glances of his erection beneath thick sweats or heavy jeans, just the line of arousal distorting the fabric that protected it. He had _seen_ it before, and felt it pressed up tight against his clothed ass, but he had never _touched_ it, never gotten to press his hand against it like this, stroking the length and feeling Mark groan beside him and rock up against his fingers.

Mark let out a soft, little moan when their hands squeezed close to his tip. “Love you... Love you so much, Jack, haa… a-aahh, fuck, Jaa-aack….”

This was _not_ helping his newfound need to suck Mark off. Jack squeezed his eyes shut with a throaty moan of his own, then opened them again, wanting to watch so badly, to keep himself aware that this was _real_ , it was _happening_ , and nobody could take this from them. “Fuck, I love you. I’m...I’m so proud of you, Mark, you feel so good like this, I, mm, I wasn’t sure if you were ready and I...I really want to kiss you...” Jack’s cheeks _burned_. He had to look like Christmas. He finished his thought anyway, so Mark understood why Jack wasn’t just turning his head and catching his lips. “ _...here._ ” Their joined hands stroked up the length of Mark’s cock again, and Jack’s throbbed in his own pants at the perceived neglect. “Like… like we were talking about earlier…”

Mark whimpered Jack’s name, his hips pressed up, his eyes snapping open at Jack’s offer. “Jack… Jack, fuck, you… y-you… I….” Mark whined. “...you can try. You can. I-I… I trust you. _I do._ ”

Mark was liking this, obviously liking the motion of their hands and when Jack stole a moment of control, pressing up into his fingers, whimpering and moaning and filling Jack’s ears with delicious sounds. His name was easily his favorite of all of Mark’s noises, whether spoken in that deep rumble or whined or moaned or…

That was a yes. Jack’s eyes snapped to Mark’s face in delighted shock. That was a _yes_ , Mark wanted it too, wanted Jack’s mouth _there_ , between his legs… Jack struggled between letting his own whine at the permission out or keeping it in. Mark liked the sounds he made as much as Jack liked Mark’s. He whined, leaning in to kiss Mark deeply, thanking him for his trust with lips and tongue, still letting his hand move over Mark’s dick.

He seized control again, though, slowing their combined touch, dragging his fingers up the side of the bulge at a maddening pace. Just like before, Jack broke away from Mark’s lips, trailing kisses down his neck and chest, working his way to their joined hands. “Stop me if you need to,” he murmured against the skin of Mark’s abs, tracing his tongue across the muscle starting to reform. “I won’t get upset.” His lips brushed the waist of Mark’s sweats and he lifted his eyes to make contact with Mark’s. “ _Promise._ ” And then he slid their hands down to the base of Mark’s cock, pressing a kiss to the top of that hard bulge.

A breathy moan that started out stifled in Mark’s chest became all too loud as Jack broke their kiss. Each little press of lips to his skin drew a fresh sound from Mark and made his muscles twitch and rise in their wake. His abdomen clenched as he nodded tightly. The hand caught up in Jack’s trembled; the other twitched feather light touches over Jack’s hip. “Jack….” The name was a soft little gasp.

“Okay?” Jack asked, pressing kisses slowly down the length of Mark’s erection, hating the plush cotton blocking him from tasting Mark’s skin. Mark didn’t seem to be panicking, hadn’t told Jack to stop yet, so Jack pushed down harder, letting his lips part to mouth at Mark’s shaft, squeezing the base gently. Slow and calm and gentle, those were the keywords Jack was living by, much as he desperately wanted to pull Mark’s sweats down and swallow him whole like in that porno (Jack knew that was a bad idea for so, _so_ many reasons, not the least of which would be that he’d probably kill himself gagging). Feeling the stiffness of Mark’s dick beneath his lips was just barely holding off Jack’s itch to attempt a real blowjob. He wanted to, he _wanted_ to. Thick cotton was not Mark’s skin, as delicious as it smelled even here, so much Mark, but more concentrated somehow. Thick cotton was dry and tasteless and it leeched the spit from Jack’s mouth. He wanted skin. He didn’t want to ask for it. “Still good?” He let the words press against Mark’s dick, followed by a press of his tongue, even though Mark would only feel the pressure and not the wetness.

“Mmhmm.” Mark practically whimpered. He nodded his head again, squirming beneath Jack’s mouth. A whine built up and bubbled at the back of his throat _._ “Yes. Yes. Jack. _Jack._ I want- I n-need- _fuck,_ wh-why is this so hard??”

“What do you need?” Jack asked, pulling away just enough so his words weren’t muffled, but then he was right back down on that bulge, fast growing addicted to the feeling of firm flesh beneath his lips. _God_ , if it felt this good, why did girls ever fuss about giving blowjobs? Jack would absolutely do this _all the time_ if it weren’t for the clothes in the way. Maybe actual dicks tasted worse than normal skin? Jack mouthed over the head of Mark’s cock again, closing his eyes and moaning softly as he imagined what it would be like without the pants. “Tell me...?” He squeezed lightly at the base of Mark’s shaft again, then gave it a little rub.

 _“You.”_ Mark gave a loud gasp as Jack continued to tease his dick. His hips bucked sharply upwards. “Pl-please fucking touch me, touch me there, oh God… Jack… J-Jack, please, p-pants… down, pull them down, I… I want… I w-wanna try. I want to. Please. Fuck, Jack, _please do that again.”_

“ _Mark…_ ” Jack muffled his groan against Mark’s dick, shifting on the bed, spreading his own legs a bit wider as if that could give him some sort of relief. Mark was begging him, _begging_ him, and Jack had to obey. He _had_ to. He could deny that deep voice nothing, not when it was that breathless and muddy with arousal. He had to pull himself off Mark’s dick, but only long enough to pluck the drawstring of Mark’s pants loose. He looked up Mark’s body, his naked abs, his heaving chest, the pure _need_ in those brown eyes staring back at him. Jack licked his lips and whispered “I fucking love you _so much_ ” as he hooked his fingers in the waist of Mark’s sweatpants, slowly drawing them down his hips, careful not to bring Mark’s underwear with him. One step at a time.

“Jack-Jack… please….” Mark blinked down at him, pupils blown wide with lust and breath hitching in his eagerness. “I love you too, please, God, fuck please Jack… nnngh….”

What had he done right before Mark’s plea? He’d had his hand _here_ , wrapped over the base of Mark’s cock, squeezing at the shaft that was so much harder and better without the sweatpants in the way. His hand had been there, rubbing gently, and his mouth had been… Jack closed his mouth over the tip of Mark’s cock again, so much more obvious against just the thin cotton of his underwear, so much hotter and muskier and Jack _moaned_ , pressing his tongue against the swell of his head. _Fuck, Mark,_ ** _fuck_** _, don’t stop me now, please don’t stop me now, wanna get you off like this, get you off with my mouth, please please please…_

Mark’s hand lifted away from Jack’s, rubbing into his hair instead. Jack shivered at the nails scraping his scalp, groaning deeply around the hardness in his mouth. He could take Mark in better like this, without the thick sweats in the way, closing his lips around the cotton-wrapped head of Mark’s dick and sucking hard, his tongue pressed against the tip, teasing it like he had been doing to Mark’s nipple earlier. Mark’s underwear was quickly growing soaked through from Jack’s mouth, but that only let him feel Mark better. Would he be able to see if he pulled off? Would the cotton cling to the lines of Mark’s dick, letting his erection stand out so much more obviously than just a bulge beneath heavy sweats or tight jeans?

The thought alone wrung another groan from Jack’s throat, and he chanced taking a little more in. Not too much, not with the way Mark’s underwear was stretched so tightly, but _mmm_ , like this he could just start to make out the taste he was coming to associate as uniquely _Mark_ through the thin fabric. Jack chased that elusive flavor with his tongue, glancing up briefly when Mark called his name desperately.

“ _Fuck,_ Jack.” Mark moaned, pitched and nasally at the very back of his throat. He dislodged his free hand from the sheets to seek out Jack’s. “Jack, Jack, _please-_ your hand, I need...”

Mark was reaching for him. Jack reached back, seizing Mark’s hand and lacing their fingers together, clinging to him even as he remembered to move his other hand, squeezing and dragging his grip up Mark’s shaft. They were _definitely_ going to do this again, and again, because Jack knew, he _knew_ he would never get enough of Mark like this.

Mark kept chanting Jack’s name, breathing sharply as their hands joined together. “Jack- Jack, fuck, please don’t stop. _Please._ Oh God… oh crap… fuck, fuck, I don’t- I d-don’t know how long, I… _Jack…._ ” Mark’s hips rocked up and forwards into the grind of Jack’s hand. “Jack, God, your mouth….”

Mark’s voice was breathless and _wrecked_ , repeatedly _moaning_ Jack’s name like it was the only word he knew. _I did that._ The thought was a heady bolt of power and lust straight to Jack’s own groin, sizzling down his spine and making him rock his hips toward the bed. _Me. That’s because of me. I’m doing that to Mark, I’m driving him wild…_ Jack moaned, pulling off Mark’s head to drag his tongue along the entire length of Mark’s shaft. “Whenever you’re ready,” Jack managed to say, his own voice rasping in his throat. “Whenever you’re ready, let go…” He kissed the base of Mark’s cock, between his fingers, kissed up the throbbing length, kissed the tip and then closed his mouth around the soaked fabric again, sucking as hard as he could manage. He kept up the strokes on the rest of Mark’s dick with his other hand, trying to match the pace and pressure Mark had taught him earlier. Part of his mind was spinning off ideas of what else he could do, reaching further between Mark’s legs to caress his balls (or even further back…), tugging the cotton aside to suck on Mark’s bare cock, freeing his hand from Mark’s grasp to find a nipple to play with…

“Ahhhh…!” Mark keened in a gentle crescendo. His body gave a rolling arch with the strokes of Jack’s tongue. “Jack….” Mark cried out, loud and unhindered, as he thrashed lightly with spasming muscles. His dick jumped and twitched where it strained against the fabric; pulsating.

Jack could _feel_ Mark’s orgasm in his mouth, feel when Mark let go and jerked beneath him, the taste of Mark suddenly so much sharper and saltier against his tongue. Mark had cum, Mark had _cum_ , and Jack was practically licking it up through his underwear and good god above _why was that so hot_? Another man had all but jizzed in his mouth and all Jack could think to do was keep sucking, trying to pull as much of that taste out of the cotton as he could. He let his hand slow as Mark rolled his hips, milking the last of his climax out of him, not pulling away until Mark had sagged beneath him, breathless and gorgeous.

With one last kittenish lick to the tip of his dick, Jack pulled his mouth off of Mark, shifting away a few inches, still clinging to Mark’s hand. He now had a free hand of his own though, and it was immediately drawn to his own dick, pressing through his pants and palming his erection. “Mark…” he gasped, wondering if he could stroke himself here, like this, with the taste of Mark’s cum in his mouth, the memory of his cock still on his tongue, with Mark splayed loose and _beautiful_ before him, and Jack moaned, stroking his dick without even asking. He needed to relieve some of the pressure. Mark had let him do this before, reach beneath his waistband, gripping himself through his own briefs. He wasn’t gonna whip it out in front of Mark. This could be enough. Especially if Mark was going to look so lovely.

Mark shifted some, fingers of his free hand skirting along the blanket, then let his head loll to the side to watch Jack. He pulled their clasped hands closer, giving Jack’s a squeeze as he smiled dazedly up at Jack.

Jack pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth as if he could pin the taste of Mark in place. He tried to return Mark’s smile, but it was so much harder to control his lips now as he gasped and panted, working himself toward the edge. Mark was tugging him closer by his hand, and Jack managed to shift his knees so he wasn’t leaning over his lover so badly...and then Mark started making out with his finger.

Blue eyes went wide, and Jack moaned Mark’s name. His brain was oh so helpfully transferring every kiss, every suck to his finger somewhere further south. _Fuck._ If _Mark_ were the one sucking on his cock, that talented tongue pressing against the tip, down the shaft, those lips stretched wide around his girth...Jack could picture it all too easily, Mark on his knees in front of him, sucking him off. Jack swept his hand down his cock as if it were Mark’s mouth, the physical sensation all he needed to tip over the edge. He curled over Mark as he came, groaning his lover’s name again, finger curling against Mark’s tongue, that image of Mark on his knees still sharp in his mind _sharp in his mind because he’d seen it before, seen Mark naked and collared, sucking on the kidnappers’ dicks, sucking on their fingers, holding their hand to his mouth just like he was doing with Jack, just like this, just like this, just like_ ** _them_** _…_

Jack yanked his hand away from Mark as if burned, yanked his hand out of his pants, collapsing over Mark and bracing himself on the bed so he didn’t touch, _couldn’t_ touch… His eyes were wide, his muscles shook, and he was staring blankly at the spots on his duvet. Mark had done...Mark had... _they_ had made him...Jack had... _fuck_. **_Fuck._** And here Jack thought _he_ couldn’t be triggered…

Jack pushed away, getting off from over Mark and instead collapsing beside his lover’s legs, staring blankly at Mark’s knees still trapped in his sweats. What were they doing? What was Jack _doing_ to Mark, pushing him into sex, convincing him this was all _okay_ , this was _good_ …? How could he call himself Mark’s friend when he did _this_ to him…?

Mark’s voice seemed to be coming from far away, like he was covering his face with a pillow or talking to Jack through a pool. Jack knew it was _Mark_ talking to him, but he’d be damned if he could pick out any words other than maybe his own names. Mark’s fingers brushed along Jack’s arm, and Jack knew they were Mark’s, because they wouldn’t be anyone else’s. They _couldn’t_ be anyone else’s. It was just Mark, trying to cheer him up, trying to make him happy again, trying to do anything that wouldn’t upset Jack further…

“...don’t…” Jack flinched away from Mark’s touch, curling up tighter. He drew his arms into his chest, fingers clenched into fists so Mark couldn’t take his hand. He squeezed his eyes shut, ducked his head, tried to make himself as small as possible. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t _right_ , Mark wasn’t a prisoner, he could do what he wanted. He didn’t have to make Jack feel good, not in _any_ way. Certainly not sexually. But Mark didn’t need to keep Jack happy either. Jack wouldn’t hurt Mark for not being _a good dog, good and attentive to his master, it’s Jack’s initials_ ** _carved into his flesh_** _, Jack’s unwanted claim that Mark was going to carry for the rest of his life, and god no,_ ** _no_** _, Mark shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t feel any obligation to care for Jack, he was his own person, he was, he_ ** _was_** _…_

Jack had to get away. He needed space, he needed to give _Mark_ space. He squirmed slightly, trying to work away from Mark without uncurling. If he could get off the bed, maybe he could, maybe...the garden was Mark’s space, but the recording room? Jack could maybe go there?

Mark wasn’t touching Jack anymore. He wasn’t touching, and Jack couldn’t feel where he was. Still on the bed, probably. Jack hadn’t felt him get off the bed. But Mark wasn’t trying to comfort him physically, and Jack stopped trying to squirm away. Where would he even _go_? Yes, the recording room was still mostly _his_ space, but Mark used it now too, and it wouldn’t keep Mark out if he were truly desperate to help Jack. There was no place Jack could go to get away from Mark if Mark didn’t want him to. Maybe Mark would just go…

Or maybe Mark would keep talking, his deep voice rolling in a familiar cadence over Jack’s frayed nerves. Talking. _They_ never made him talk. _They_ liked him to beg, and _they_ liked to shut him up by shoving things in his mouth (like fingers or dicks), but good dogs didn’t _talk_. Not like this. Not calmly and softly, a gentle river of noise. Jack didn’t focus on any of the words. He just let the rhythm relax his breathing, eventually daring to open his eyes. Mark’s hands were there, on the bed in front of him, palm up. Asking. Offering. Jack’s mouth tightened, and he pulled his own hands closer to his chest. He didn’t want Mark to feel _obligated_. He’d be fine. He could pull through this.

And now Mark was singing. He was singing, which was something Jack was fairly sure _never_ happened in that room. He was singing, and he’d been talking, and he had his hands where Jack could see, palms up, patient and waiting and _just like Jack._ Mark wasn’t acting like a prisoner of sadistic kidnappers. He was acting like _Jack_ , trying to be calm and patient and coaxing Mark out of a bad headspace. Because that was what this was. Jack grimaced, closing his eyes. He was in a bad headspace. That was why he couldn’t focus on any of Mark’s words, why he was trying to get away. It was a weird sort of panic attack, with more of the panic and less of the attack.

Mark was _worried_. Mark wasn’t trying to satisfy Jack’s whims like Jack was the master, Mark was trying to bring him back to reality. He was trying to _support_ Jack, the way Jack supported him. Not out of any sense of obligation, but because Jack was his _friend_.

Mark needed him to calm the fuck down. Jack took a shaky, deep breath and cracked his eyes open, then reached out with one hand, forcing his fist open and brushing his fingers against Mark’s. “...sorry.” It was a start.

Mark jumped, his eyes snapping open to look down at Jack again. He curled his fingers loosely around Jack’s hand, his voice thick from his own recent orgasm. “Don’t be sorry. You can’t control it any better than I can. _I’m_ sorry I made you think of them. Of any of that. It’s the last thing I wanted, we were doing so well….” He shook his head. “We _are_ doing well. Jack… do you want to talk about it?”

“...no, it's not…” Jack closed his eyes again, squeezed Mark's hand gently, and then pulled away from Mark's touch. He pushed himself up until he was sitting, curling away from Mark, his arms wrapped around his waist.

“It wasn't you, Mark. It was me, all me. I…” Jack glanced at Mark and then looked away again with a shudder. “You shouldn't let me…”

Mark would deny it. If Jack accused himself of manipulating Mark into these situations, Mark would deny it, because of course he thought it was his own idea. _That was the point of manipulation._ Jack wasn't doing it maliciously, but intent didn't matter when the end results were the same. Mark was having sex with him, and it wasn't because Mark really wanted to. It was because Jack was literally his only option.

“I'm sorry.”

Mark’s brow furrowed with confusion. “It’s not… what? Jack? Jack…. Jack, I wouldn’t let you if I didn’t want to. Maybe… maybe before, at first. When we started. But we worked through that. _You_ helped me through that. I… I try, _really hard,_ not to do things just because it’s what you want. I do.”

Mark shook his head again. “Jack. Jack, _don’t_ be ashamed of what we just did. Please. It wasn’t just sex and you know it- it wasn’t _even sex._ We just… we were showing how much we loved each other. You didn’t make me do _anything._ You didn’t force yourself on me. I would have stopped you. I would’ve slowed us down. _I’m_ the one that put your finger in my mouth, Jack. Because I wanted to. I couldn’t touch you, so I tried something else. I didn’t have to. Nothing was motivating me like it did with them. It wouldn’t get me anything, but to help you. And it did.”

“You want to make me happy,” Jack said dully. “You do these things because you want to please me. Like you'd do for _them_ , so you wouldn't get hurt. And don't...it's not different, not really. I won't hurt you if you don't, but it's not like…”

_It's not like this is what you wanted before…_

Jack had wanted Mark since he first knew of Mark's existence. He had hidden it, tamped it down, refused to act on his impulses or even really acknowledge them, but his affection for Mark had a _long_ history. Mark's returned affection, on the other hand, didn't start until after the horror he suffered through. It was a side effect of his trauma that Jack was blatantly taking advantage of. He hated it.

“Of course I want to make you happy! Jack, I wanted to make you happy even _before_ I got kidnapped. Because you were my friend. One of my _best friends._ And…”

Mark gestured with his hands as he spoke, dragging his fingers through his hair and trying to explain himself. “It _is_ different, Jack. _It is._ You’re right. I always tried to make them happy, because I knew the consequences of not. I knew if they were happy they’d go easier on me. But I don’t _have_ those motivations with you. I _don’t need to make you happy._ Hell, you would have _been_ happy even if I didn’t suck on your finger. Right? You would. You _were._ Nothing and no one is making me do any of this but _me,_ Jack. Because I love you. Because I want you. Not because _you_ want _me._ ** _I want you._** And not anyone else.”

How could Jack possibly begin to trust what Mark was saying? How could he believe Mark, when… Jack leaned over, reaching around Mark's back to trace two of the other man's scars, two he knew all too well.

_S. M._

“You're mine,” Jack said, quiet and defeated. “They gave you to me, whether I wanted you or not. Whether _you_ wanted it or not. They took away any choice you had, and it doesn't matter, it _doesn't matter_ , because for the rest of your _life_ you're gonna have this, and you're just...you're just…” _trying to make it bearable._

Jack pulled his hand back, wrapping his arm around his waist again, looking away from Mark. “They put me on their level when they did that,” Jack whispered. “And I can't...I can't change that.”

“No.”

The force behind that first word was unheard of from Mark in the recent months. Jack flinched from the assertiveness, but it caught his attention and held it, held it while Mark spat up a whole flood of emotion.

“No, Jack. I’m _not_ yours. I’m not _anyone’s._ I-I don’t care, what they said. Or what they did. I’m _not._ I’m a person. I’m a _person_ Jack and you _can’t own people._ No matter what anyone says or does. I don’t belong to anyone but me. _I don’t._ ” Mark drew a tight breath.

“It _does_ matter. It matters what I think, even more than it matters what _you_ think. What doesn’t matter is what _they_ did. So they ‘gave’ me to you? So what? You don’t own me like a present. I’m not an object. I’m _me._ If I say those fucking letters don’t mean _shit,_ then they don’t. You know what else ‘S’ and ‘M’ stand for, Jack? Anything!! You know the only thing connecting them to you; to you _owning me?_ Them. And _us_ letting them control what we think and I am just _so_ ** _sick of it,_** Jack. I’m sick of being stuck in _their_ mindset, the mindset _they_ gave us, it’s been over a year Jack and we’re _still letting them control us._ We’re letting them take something that’s supposed to be _pure_ and **_ours_** and twist it into something horrible. They have you thinking you’re just like **_them._** You, Jack. The main fucking reason I’m even still alive right now and healing and better and happy and and and- _fuck._ ”

A tear rolled down Mark’s cheek, then another and another, no matter how much Mark scrubbed at his face and muttered swears. “Damn it, God d-damn it….”

Jack sat and listened, watching Mark get out his thoughts, watching him crumble at the end like he didn't have the strength in his spine without all of that bottled up inside.

Mark was crying, and Jack didn't know what to do, not until Mark held up his arms in a silent plea. Once he did that, it was all too clear. Jack closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Mark and holding him tight. Mark collapsed against him, burrowing against Jack’s chest, his arms trapped between their bodies.

“I love you,” Jack whispered above Mark's ear. “I love you, I've loved you as long as I've _known_ you, and I want...I want…” He sniffed as well, careful not to write his nose across Mark's hair. “I want you to love me too. Not because I’ve helped you heal or kept you alive or _anything_ because of...because of _them_. I just…”

Jack closed his eyes, pressing his nose to Mark's ear. “I don't want to use you. For anything. You're too special for that.”

“I love you too.” Mark’s face was pressed against Jack’s shoulder, his tears falling across Jack’s skin, but neither of them were paying attention to that. “You’re not using me. I promise. You are _nothing_ like them. E-even if I’d let you do that to me, I wouldn’t let you do it to yourself. I wouldn’t. Because I love you, I love you, _I do._ It took me forever and a day to give it a name but I do love you, Jack, it was always there I was just too st-stupid to realize and I’m sorry. I’m sorry, if I hadn’t been such a doofus we wouldn’t even h-have this worry…I love you so much, please, don’t let anyone change that from what it is….”

Jack shook his head and pulled Mark even closer, onto his thighs. He was still wearing his pyjama pants. There was nothing more triggery to that than there was to Mark pressed so tight against Jack's bare chest. He needed to hold Mark as much as Mark needed to be held. Jack kept his arms locked around Mark's back, refusing to even _consider_ letting go.

“You promise?” Jack asked, and he didn't even know why. “You promise you won't...you won't let me hurt you? Use you? No matter how much...how much _I_ want it?”

Jack had promised this to Mark, weeks back, the first time Mark showed him his scars, _that_ scar. Jack had promised Mark back then, and the promise had only gone one way...but Mark was already so much stronger than he was back then, both mentally and emotionally. Maybe he _could_ return the promise. Maybe he could hold Jack off.

“I promise.” Mark didn’t pause or hesitate. He pressed his mouth to the junction of Jack’s neck and shoulder and just kept it there for a few moments. “If you hurt me, I’ll retaliate. If you try to use me, I’ll push you away. I don’t care if you beg, if… if I don’t want to, I won’t. I won’t.” Mark kissed Jack’s skin again. “But I know you won’t. You haven’t, not once. You’ve got the best self-control I’ve ever seen Jack and I love you so, _so_ much for it. For trying so hard for me; for denying yourself…. I love you. A-and loving you… means trusting you. Means knowing when to stop you. You don’t own me, and you aren’t them. You’re Jack. Sean.” He tucked his face into the crook of Jack’s neck. “You’re my boyfriend.”

Jack could breathe easier with Mark's promise, with how _quickly_ Mark promised, without any hesitation. It felt like an iron band had been removed from around his lungs, and he took a deep breath, pressing his face against Mark's soft hair, inhaling his scent and wrapping his heart in _Mark_.

“You make it so hard sometimes,” Jack murmured into Mark's hair. “The things I want to do to you...but you also make it so easy.” Over the months they spent together, Jack had learned to read Mark intimately. He was so much better now at responding to Mark's needs, sometimes anticipating them before Mark even realized he was asking for something. It was _easy_ to control himself around Mark now, because Mark's smiles and kisses and touches all made it worth it.

And yet it was still so hard. There were still landmines Jack had to step carefully around, still hair triggers he had to avoid. There was still so much Jack _wanted_ from Mark. Some of it was sexual, yes, but so much of it was as simple as reclaiming _Markimoo_.

Jack sighed, pressing a kiss to Mark's ear and squeezing tighter. He closed his eyes, content to sit like this forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	47. Day 217: Mark Disappears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack knew this would happen. He knew it was too good to be true.

After their emotional night, Jack was grateful of the forethought that had them bringing in towels and damp cloths to the bedroom. Cleaning up was easy, and Mark chose to drop his pants over the side of the bed and asked Jack to leave his shirt off. Jack had been all too happy to agree: he preferred sleeping shirtless anyway, and having Mark tucked up against his bare chest had felt heavenly.

Mark was still relaxed in the morning, and they’d traded soft kisses and caresses, murmuring softly about nothing in particular. Jack loved these lazy mornings spent with Mark in his arms and nothing more pressing than listening for Chica.

The weather was beautiful, so as Mark let Chica out to do her business, Jack “made” breakfast of cereal and fruit. Their shelves were sparse, and there was a farmers’ market in town today. Jack wanted to take advantage of the sun. He loved the rain, but outdoor markets weren’t so much fun when you were soaked through.

Mark opted not to join him. Jack couldn’t really blame him. After that incredibly heavy night, Mark needed some time to get his internal balance back. He didn’t push Mark to step outside his comfort zone, but just took his time with a kiss good-bye and headed out the door.

The market always had better food than the grocery store, but it took so much longer. Jack picked his way through the stalls, selecting bread and cheese and eggs and fruit and vegetables. There was a beekeeper with honey, so Jack bought some of that as well, and stopped by the butcher last, to get some steaks for dinner tonight.

It had been several hours by the time Jack got back to the cottage and called out to his boyfriend as he entered. “Mark, I’m home!” There was no response, but that wasn’t entirely unusual. If Mark was out in the garden, he might not have heard. Jack took his bags to the kitchen to unload everything.

Mark still hadn’t shown up by the time Jack was finished, and he smiled to himself. Mark was probably engrossed in the garden with Chica. He washed his hands and went out back.

The garden was empty.

Jack’s smile froze and melted off his face. “Mark?” His boyfriend wasn’t in the garden. He wasn’t under the willow or down by the river. He wasn’t in the shed. _Chica_ wasn’t here either. He hadn’t responded from inside the house. Recording? Was he recording?

The office door was closed. Jack hesitated, then pushed it open. Mark wouldn’t be live-streaming, so any interruption could be edited out...except that the office was quiet too, lights out and room empty.

“ _Mark?_ ” Jack could not keep the worry from his voice as he bolted through the rest of the house. Bedroom, empty. Guest room, empty. Bathroom, empty. Living room, empty. Chica’s crate, empty. Unused garage, _empty_. “MARK!?”

He could call Mark, except...except his phone didn’t work here. Goddamnit. Mark needed to be connected to wifi, just like Jack did when he was in Ireland. He tried anyway, but got no answer. _Fuck_.

Okay, okay, calm down. _Calm down._ Nothing was ransacked (well, nothing was ransacked before Jack ripped the house apart looking for Mark, or at least a note). The garden wasn’t disturbed. No obvious signs of a struggle. Jack pushed his hands through his hair, taking a shaky breath. Maybe Mark decided to join him after all? Or took Chica on a walk? Yeah, yeah, those made the most sense. He hadn’t gotten snatched out of their cottage. He _hadn’t_. He was safe. Wherever he was. He was safe.

Unless he wasn’t. Unless those bastards found where Jack had moved to and decided round two would be funny.

He probably went on a walk. Or to town. Not that he ever did that before on his own. He might have. Jack would check their usual path with Chica, then go back into town, and… and if he still couldn’t find Mark, he’d call the police.

Jack ran down their usual walking path, not the one by the river, Mark wouldn’t have done that so early in the day, the river would have more people during the daytime hours. No Mark. He went into town, trying not to look too worried. A small group of fans stopped him for pictures, and it was all Jack could do to smile and make small talk and try not to desperately be scanning the crowds over their heads, looking for any sign of his boyfriend.

No Mark.

Jack didn’t even take the bus home. He walked the path home, scanning both sides of the street, trying not to peer into too many bushes. He couldn’t run around shouting Mark’s name, but he wanted to.

He had his phone out before he even walked into the cottage, debating between 999 or just the local police. Just when he was about to hit the green dial button, the familiar click of dog toenails clattering excitedly against the wood floors caught his attention, and Chica came bounding down the hall to greet her second human. _Chica._ Jack dropped to his knees to hug the dog tight, ruffling her ears. “Is your daddy home?” he asked her, pulling her head back to look at her big eyes. She wasn’t hurt or upset. She seemed perfectly happy and oblivious to Jack’s distress. “He better be home. He better be…”

Jack forced himself to not run down the hall. He could hear game music from the living room, and when he turned the corner, _there was Mark._ Sitting on the couch, ranting at _Hamster Maze Race_ , alive and unharmed and Jack just stared, something tight and cold coiling inside his chest.

Mark paused the game and twisted around to face Jack, a smile on his face. “There you are! I was starting to think I might need to call the Irish cavalry or something… do you guys even _have_ one of those? Are those a thing anymore? I dunno. How was the market?”

Mark was grinning at him. Grinning like nothing was wrong, like Jack hadn’t been _seconds_ away from calling the police for real, like he hadn’t run all over half the city looking for him. “Where,” Jack managed to choke out, his voice tight as he struggled not to completely _lose_ it, “the _fuck_ have _you BEEN!?_ ” He clenched his hands into fists, squeezing his phone tight. “Do you have ANY FUCKING IDEA how long I’ve been looking for you!? You just up and disappeared, no note, no call, nothing! I tore the fucking _house_ apart, tore the _city_ apart trying to find you, had to pretend that no, nothing was wrong at all when I got recognized, all the while trying not to imagine you back in that room!?”

So much for staying calm. Jack forced his mouth shut with an audible click, needing to turn away. He couldn’t even look at Mark right now. He was shaking from his rare show of rage, and he squeezed his eyes shut, pressing one fist to his forehead. Mark was okay. Mark was _okay_ , it was a wasted day, but Mark _wasn’t hurt_ and wherever he’d been, it hadn’t been bad and Jack really needed to calm down, he needed to calm down no matter how much he wanted to punch Mark in his smiling face right now.

“J-Jack-” Mark’s voice squeaked around Jack’s name, followed by coughing as Mark cleared his throat. “Jack. What’s… what are you talking about? I- I left a note. I left it right on the office door so you’d see it, I didn’t think to call because…I didn’t, I’m sorry, but I did leave you a note! I just went out with Chica. That was it. I... I wanted to try going alone. I’m sorry.”

Jack folded his arms across his chest, hugging himself to try to calm down (and to keep from making any sudden movements that might throw Mark back into that room mentally). He could hear the fear in Mark’s voice when he spoke, and that just heaped a pile of guilt on top of Jack’s earlier anxiety and fear. _He was scaring Mark._

“There wasn’t a note,” Jack ground out. “There _wasn’t_ , I ripped the place apart looking for one.” The house still bore some of the scars of Jack’s frantic tornado of worry from earlier. Their bedroom took the worst hit, because Jack figured surely Mark would have left a note _there_ if anywhere. “I came home and you were _gone_ and I didn’t know…”

_Calm down, Sean, calm down. He’s safe. He apologized. Calm the fuck down before you undo everything you worked for these past months._

Jack forced himself to take deep breaths, in through his nose, out through his mouth. In and out. _Calm the fuck down._

“There was! You can ask Chica, she _saw me_ put it on the door ‘cause she was so excited to go out. I don’t understand, it was there, it was. I wouldn’t just leave without…” Mark trailed off for a moment. “...Jack. Please don’t be mad... er... but there’s something stuck to your shoe.”

Jack’s eyes snapped open, and it was all he could do not to glare at Mark. Instead, he looked down.

There _was_ something stuck to his shoe. Jack lifted his foot, peeling a now grubby and battered Post-It note off his sole.

_Don’t freak out. I just took Chica for a walk. Should be back soon. You can come and try to catch us if you want. We’re taking the path by the river. -Mark_

_P.S. <3_

He’d stepped on the note. Mark had left him a note, and he’d _stepped_ on it, and then he was blaming Mark for not leaving one? Jack ground his teeth together, closing his eyes again. “I still need to record today.” He _needed_ to calm down is what he needed. “I’ll see you later.” Jack turned sharply, stalking toward the recording room and hoping Mark didn’t try to follow. He needed some time alone.

In his recording room, Jack sat and waited to see if Mark would follow him. When five minutes passed without a knock at the door, Jack finally let himself sag, folding into his crossed arms on his desk and giving in to the churning emotions within him. It was okay. Everything was okay. Well, he had yelled at Mark, but that was fixable. Probably. _Mark_ was okay, and Jack was okay, and Chica was okay, and no kidnappers had come back for round two and _it was going to be okay._ Maybe if he repeated that to himself long enough, he’d start believing it.

Eventually, Jack wiped the tears from his face and opened up Steam to find some games to record. His heart really wasn’t in it today, but he had to. He _had_ to. After several failed starts, Jack played _Happy Wheels_ for half an hour and tried again with some new games. Tomorrow’s videos were not going to be the best, but at least he managed to get something he wasn’t completely embarrassed to put his name on.

It was late in the afternoon by the time Jack felt ready to face Mark again. He cracked the door to his recording room open, checking the hall. No Mark. Chica padded out to meet Jack, but Mark didn’t seem to be anywhere in the house. She went to the back door and whined, and Jack let her out. There, beneath the willow’s drooping branches, was Mark. Jack took a deep breath and approached quietly.

Mark was fast asleep beneath the tree, his head tucked on his arm and an actual dragonfly fanning its wings lightly on his cheek. Jack blinked and dug out his phone to snap a picture before he waved the insect away and crouched down beside Mark. “Hey,” he murmured, touching Mark’s arm lightly. “Hey, you probably shouldn’t sleep out here. You’ll get a crick in your back.”

“ _Mngh? Urngh. Mmm…_ ” The first words out of Mark’s mouth weren’t exactly comprehensible. “Jack…” As soon as Mark recognized Jack over him, he launched himself at Jack, wrapping his arms tight around Jack’s chest and burying his face in Jack’s neck. _“I’m sorry.”_

Mark clung to Jack, and Jack had to hug him back, tucking himself around his boyfriend and so grateful that Mark was already forgiving him. “No, Mark, no, _I’m_ sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I shouldn’t have… I was scared. I was so scared, and I took it out on you, and I’m _sorry_. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was all me this time. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Mark was in his arms and he was _safe_ and the world was okay again. It really, really was.

“I know you didn’t mean it. I know it was just your emotions talking, Jack, I’ve been there. I forgive you. I do. You _know_ I do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t love you enough to still love you after you make a mistake…”

Mark pulled back some to kiss at Jack’s cheek. “You… you really scared me, for a minute. But we both kept our heads. That’s what’s important. I… I should have called you. Before I left. I should’ve known how big of a move it was and I just… I’m sorry for that. That I made you think I was gone again. That’s not what I wanted at all…”

Jack caught Mark’s face in his hands and kissed his lips, drawing back to look at his face. “I came home and you weren’t here and I just… just immediately jumped to the worst case scenario. I tried to stay calm, but I looked _everywhere_ for you, and… and we’re getting you an Irish phone. First thing tomorrow. Because…” Jack hugged Mark again, setting his chin on Mark’s shoulder. “Because...I’m glad you were able to go out on your own. I know I didn’t act like it, but I’m _happy_. You’re so much better, and that’s good, that’s _great_ , but if something _had_ happened, you wouldn’t have had any way to get in touch with me. Or the police. It’s not… not that I don’t trust you going out on your own. I just want you to be able to get in contact with me.”

Mark squeezed Jack in his arms and tucked his face in against the back of Jack’s head. “Okay. Okay, I’ll get an Irish phone. It’s been long overdue anyway. It’s not gonna have to be bright green and covered in rainbows though, is it? ‘Cause I know I’m gay and all now but I think that’s excessive advertising.”

“No, Mark, the green phones are reserved for those who are leprechaun by blood.” Jack closed his eyes and sighed, finally able to relax. Mark was safe. He was here. He wasn’t scarred from Jack’s anger. Everything was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	48. Evening 217: A New Tattoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's always wanted a second tattoo, but now Mark’s opinion matters.

After dinner was reserved for snuggling together on the couch with a show on the television as Jack interacted with his community and Mark did...whatever Mark felt like. It usually involved his own community as well. Tonight, they were (finally) watching _Legend of Korra_. Jack felt bad that he’d put it off for so long, but he just had _so many shows_ and not nearly enough time. Mark was snuggled beneath his arm, and Jack was rubbing his back and scrolling through Tumblr as Mark talked about his day. They had both calmed down and put the house back together, and now Jack could smile about it and truly be proud of all Mark had accomplished on his solo walk with Chica. He really was healing and getting better, and these were all steps in the right direction.

Mark’s independence had obviously been inspired by their conversation last night, and Mark’s rant about how the initials on his back didn’t mean he belonged to Jack. Jack agreed...to a point.

He _didn’t_ own Mark. He didn’t. He knew that he didn’t. Mark knew that he didn’t. And yes, SM could stand for just about _anything_ , including Sexy Mark or Silly Manchild… but they didn’t. Jack and Mark both knew that the SM carved into Mark’s flesh stood for Sean McLoughlin. And they both knew that the letters were meant to be marks of ownership, a claim Jack had never asked for and Mark had never wanted. Regardless of what Mark did, or said, or thought… they’d always _know_. And those letters were scars, jagged and horrible reminders of the room, of everything Mark had suffered through.

Jack’s fingers caught on an exposed bit of the scars he was just thinking about, Mark’s shirt having ridden up a little in his snuggles. He paused his stroking, fingers pressing gently against the damaged skin.

Mark was always going to have these. _Always_. Jack couldn’t do anything to take them away. But what if… what if Jack added to them?

Not on Mark, obviously. Mark’s skin had been marked enough already. For a man who had never even wanted a _tattoo_ , his skin was littered with permanent reminders of his past. Whereas _Jack’s_ …

Jack liked tattoos. He liked simple designs that held a lot of meaning. He liked the thought of marking his skin with permanent reminders of important stages of his life. And he had been thinking about those letters on Mark’s back ever since Mark showed them to him.

Quietly, Mark grabbed the remote and paused Netflix. Then he snuggled deeper against Jack to look up at him with big, brown eyes. When he spoke, Mark adopted the exaggeratedly gentle tone of a lovesick romantic interest straight out of a movie. “Tell me what you're thinking about.”

“Hmm?” Jack looked down at Mark, at those big eyes and that sappy sweet tone. He almost rolled his eyes. He didn’t, but only because he was also feeling tempted to lean in and kiss Mark, and he figured an expression that could make him want that was not eyeroll-worthy.

“I’m thinking about you,” he answered, in the same sort of tone. That got a snort out of Mark. With a little more seriousness, Jack sighed and let his fingers trace the S on Mark’s back. “I’m thinking about these,” he admitted. “And how no matter what we _want_ them to mean, we both know why they were made. What they actually mean.”

_You belong to me._

“I guess…. But it's like I said. Just because we know, that doesn't mean we have to follow it. Or let it dictate us. It should just be like all my other scars.”

“It should be, but it’s _not_. It’s not, Mark, and you know it isn’t. You were afraid to show me this one. These,” Jack pulled his other hand away from his laptop to touch Mark’s face, tracing one of the visible scars there, then down to touch where he knew a scar cut across Mark’s chest, “these weren’t given to you deliberately, with the intent to leave a message. These were just proof that you were hurt. _This one_ …”

Jack grimaced as he moved to the M. “This one was meant to be a brand, Mark. And you’ll never forget that. _I’ll_ never forget that. And it’ll take years to try to recondition ourselves to thinking of it any other way…”

Mark sank against Jack. “I was afraid to show you that one because I knew it'd have this effect on you….” Mark sighed. “I'm really hoping my ears aren't deceiving me and that's a ‘but’ I hear….”

Jack found a smile, leaning over to kiss Mark’s hair. “There _is_ a but, but I’m not sure how much you’re gonna like it. Hear me out, okay? This isn’t just a whim. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while. Longer than I’ve known about these scars, actually, though it didn’t really start to form a shape until… just hear me out?”

Jack crept his fingers beneath the hem of Mark’s shirt and spread his hand across the scar, covering it. “This mark was meant to mean that you’re mine. And in one way, you are. You’re my boyfriend. You’re _mine_. But by that very same logic… I’m yours. Your boyfriend. _Yours_. You…” This was the bit Jack _knew_ Mark wasn’t going to like, but it was the only way he could think to make this right. And _he_ was okay with it, and it was _his_ body. Surely that was all that mattered?

“You have my initials claiming you as mine, and I… don’t. It makes things unbalanced between us. Unequal. If I… If I had _your_ initials…”

_“Jack stop right there.”_

There was an urgent horror in Mark’s tone that could be felt in the tension that had infiltrated his muscles. Fingers that had been languidly spread across Jack’s body curled to dig in where they lay. All the relaxed serenity evaporated from Mark as he looked up at Jack with wide, terrified eyes. “You are _not_ getting my initials put _anywhere_ on your body. I never liked that concept to begin with but especially not because of this. Because of what they did to _me._ You aren't permanently marking yourself just to make up for their sick, twisted games. This is the _opposite_ of trying to dismiss its significance Jack why would you even _think_ of doing this for me? You can't. _You can't._ ” Mark’s voice was edging on frantic.

“Mark, shh, it’s okay.” Jack pushed his laptop to the couch so he could turn and hug Mark. “I won’t do anything you are so opposed to, okay? I promise. I just… just want you to hear me out. Hear _why_ I want this. Okay?”

Jack had known Mark would react badly, but this was still on the far end of what he had been expecting. It made perfect sense in his mind, but he knew Mark associated his scar with pain and terror.

Mark clung to Jack the moment it became possible. He pressed his cheek against Jack’s chest. “Okay….”

“I… I like tattoos, remember?” Jack twisted his arm so Mark could see the symbol inked into his skin. “I like the idea of having these sorts of visible reminders of epochs in my life. I know I only have one right now, but I’ve been planning on having more even before I got this one. And this… regardless of what happens with us, our relationship, regardless of the future, if we break up or hate each other or stay together for the rest of our lives… we are _always_ going to be bound together by what happened. _Always_. And you… you bear the scars physically, and I… I dunno. Wanted to express my solidarity with you? I wanted to show that it affected me too, and that’s what I mean when I say I’ve been considering this for a long time. And then you showed me those initials, and I just… it was so _unfair_ , that you had to bear this burden alone. And I know my getting your initials doesn’t change a damn thing about how you got mine or dismiss its significance, but it does… like I said, it balances it. _You_ don’t belong to _me. We_ would belong to _each other._ At least for this moment in time.”

“I don’t… Jack, I don’t want you to feel _obligated_ to share my scars. I’m so, _so_ relieved and happy you didn’t have to suffer like me in that room. That they couldn’t get their hands on you. The thought of them ever hurting you hurts _me._ The thought of you marking _yourself…_ I don’t… I don’t know, Jack….”

Mark wriggled one arm free to brush at the tattoo with his fingers. “I know it’s unfair. I know you want to put us on equal ground but…. _Jack,_ it’s such a big decision. I don’t like thinking you’re doing this just because of me. To try and comfort _me._ I love you as mine, but I never want to _own_ you. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to drag yourself any further physically into this….”

As Mark calmed in his arms, Jack resumed rubbing his back softly. He dipped his head to press his cheek to Mark’s hair, closing his eyes and listening to his boyfriend. “I’m not considering this out of any sense of obligation,” he said quietly. “Mark, I _want_ to. It’s not… it wouldn’t hurt. I mean, it _will_ , but it won’t. I was freaking out a little about the tattoo hurting, but it barely hurt at all. More annoyance than pain. And it’s not… it’s not _them_ hurting me. It’s not _them_ doing this to me. Aside from the fact that it would be done by a professional in a clean, sterile environment…” Jack turned to kiss at Mark’s head. “It’s _me_ doing it to me. Or us, since I know you’re going to continue to blame yourself.”

“Of course I'm gonna blame myself. You can't look me in the eye and tell me you'd get my initials tattooed on you if I didn't have yours carved into me. Which means so what if it's not _them_ doing it? It's still _being done_ ** _because_** of them.”

Jack folded his arms around Mark’s back again. “It’s the difference between getting clawed and a caress,” he said. “Between how they’d pin you to a wall and how you pinned me. It’s not born from hate or mockery or sadism, but from love. _Our_ love.”

Mark was frowning. “Does the fact you're doing it out of love really make so much of a difference then…?” he muttered to himself.

“And…” Jack blushed, hiding his face in Mark’s floofy hair. “And you know how much I love having your marks on me.”

That was a new kink of Jack’s that he had never known about before Mark. His girlfriends would bite and scratch in the heat of the moment, but never hard, never really enough to leave bruises that lingered for days. They were always careful of the camera Jack turned to. Mark, on the other hand, Mark had just _gone for it_ , sinking his teeth into Jack’s skin and it wasn’t the _pain_ that had turned Jack on, he realized the next day. It was the bruise left behind, the marks in his skin that claimed him as _Mark’s_. He had pressed the bruise in the mirror the next day and shivered and blushed and had to go hide in Mark’s shoulder for half an hour before he could even _explain_ it.

Mark had then proceeded to nearly make Jack cream his pants just by leaving a ring of hickies around his neck, and Jack had to pull a hoodie over them to record his videos for the next couple of days. Sometimes, Jack really hated Mark. (That was not one of those times.)

“It just… it makes one permanent, even when we’re apart, and it makes yours… it makes yours _mine_ , and not _theirs_. It takes it from them, takes their power.”

“Hickeys aren't on the same level as tattoos Jack you fuckin’ goober. Plus I wouldn't technically be the one marking you, even if it's my initials.” Mark turned his head so he could tuck his face into Jack’s chest rather than his cheek. His voice was quiet and solemn when he next spoke. “...you really wanna do this, don't you? Will it help you feel better? Will you stop obsessing over mine and what it means?”

Jack nodded against Mark's hair. “I really do, Mark. I really think...think it'll help. Me, at least, if not you. But I _don't_ want...I don't want to make things worse for you. I don't want to break your heart every time you see your initials in my skin. If you're opposed to it, I _won't_. We'll find some other way. I just…”

Sighing, Jack kissed Mark's hair. “I want to be yours. Tangibly. Even if we can never…”

They hadn't even begun to discuss how they'd handle their communities, if they were going to come out or stay closeted. They hadn't even begun to discuss their own future, once Mark was healed. Jack knew he didn't want to live in L.A., but he also knew he couldn't ask Mark to move here. They were at an impasse before they even began discussions. “I love you. Right here, right now, that is true, and I want...I want to commemorate that.”

Mark wrapped his arms snug around Jack’s middle and let his face remain buried in Jack’s chest. Slowly, he lifted his head; dragging his nose lightly up the center of Jack’s chest until his head was bumping up beneath Jack’s chin. Once there he stopped to nuzzle, slow and affectionate and _endeared_ , at the bit of exposed skin above the collar of Jack’s shirt. “I love you. You know I do. I'm not… I'm just not sure, Jack. Sleep on it? I could tell you tomorrow. If it's a thing I can handle.”

“Of course.” Jack kissed Mark's forehead. “Of course, Mark, there's no rush. It's a permanent change. It _shouldn't_ be taken lightly. And _please_ be honest with me. I don't want to do it if it hurts you.” He nudged down until he could peck at Mark's lips. “Because I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	49. Day 220: Aftercare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark is very good with his hands.

In the morning, Mark agreed to a tattoo. Jack pushed for an actual scar, but Mark blanched and Jack immediately dropped it. A tattoo would be fine. Especially since Mark agreed to let Jack take a picture of his scar so Jack's could be made to match.

Jack set up an appointment for several days later, and Mark and Chica accompanied him to the shop. Jack introduced his tattoo artist to Mark, but even meeting her in person, Mark declined actually going back with Jack. He couldn't watch the process. Jack was okay with it: he didn't want Mark to be alarmed by any involuntary shows of pain.

Three hours later, Jack emerged from the backroom, all smiles for Mark. To his shock, the tattoo hadn't even hurt as much as his arm one had.

“It's done,” he said, taking Mark's hand and giving it a squeeze. “She did a _great_ job. I'm happy with it.”

Mark, obviously on-edge from being alone in public for over an hour, managed a relieved smile and returned Jack’s squeeze. “I want to see it. Later. Whenever you can take the gauze off. It… didn't hurt too much, did it?”

“It barely hurt at all,” Jack said. Mark’s shoulders sagged in relief. Jack drummed his fingers against the back of Mark's hand, not being careful of his nails. “Like that, with the occasional pinch. My arm one hurt worse. She said if I had gone more to my sides, it would have hurt more.” Jack's tattoo had ended up being fairly narrow and compact, centered over his spine.

“I'll show you tonight. Ready to go home?” Jack could tell Mark was antsy, and he was ready to give his boyfriend a hug too.

Taking a careful glance around, Mark subtly interlocked their fingers to give Jack’s hand a firmer squeeze. Chica got to her feet with a little yip at the mention of home; just as eager to go. “Please.” Mark hesitated, then continued in a tentatively hopeful tone. “...we could stop and get some cookies from that bakery we like on the way, though? Before the bus?”

Jack's eyes lit up at the c-word. “As if you even have to ask!” He tried to eat fairly healthy, to offset his sedentary lifestyle, but Jack was a complete sucker for cookies and cake. He squeezed Mark's hand back and grinned at his boyfriend before pulling away to open the door. “How'd Chica hold up? Not get too worried?”

Mark smiled and followed Jack out of the shop. Chica tugged at her leash, but Mark kept a firm grip on her as he shrugged one shoulder. “She got a little antsy but a good rub down now and then stopped her from howling or anything. People kept wanting to pet her so she got plenty of attention. I'm glad we could bring her along.”

Jack rolled his eyes--he'd _really_ been asking about Mark--and bumped their shoulders together. “That's good to hear. How did her daddy do?” If subtle failed, be direct. Really, Jack should have known better than trying to be coy with words around Mark.

Mark blinked and looked over to Jack with a quirked eyebrow. “What- oh. _Oh._ ” He grinned sheepishly as he realized what Jack had originally meant. “Sorry. Her daddy went fine too. I mean, _I_ went fine. Too. Uh… besides asking about Chica, no one really bothered me. Which was good. I don't know how well I could've maintained a conversation.” He looked down, suddenly bashful, then back to Jack as he continued in a mumble. “Okay, I admit, Chica was about the only thing stopping me from running back there to make sure you were okay. She kept distracting me when my brain would start conjuring up horror stories.”

“I'm glad we were able to bring her. Chica's always a good conversation piece.” Jack bumped against Mark's shoulder again, letting their arms linger together. He hated that he couldn't be as affectionate as he wanted in public. Cookies first, then home, then cuddles. And kisses. “You got through it, though. That's what counts.”

Mark smiled weakly. “I've been able to get through a lot lately. Things almost feel like they're back to normal.”

It wasn't hard to get a selection of cookies for both of them, and by the time they had seats on the bus home, four cookies were already gone. Another seven disappeared before they made it back to the cottage, and Jack distracted Mark with a deep kiss before stealing the last cookie. He grinned and winked at Mark as he shoved it in his mouth. “Nom nom nom!”

Jack had thumbnails to make, and Mark made dinner. After dinner, Jack went into the bathroom to peel the bandages off, carefully washing off the tattoo. He changed into his pyjamas, making sure the elastic band of his sweats rode low around his hips so it didn’t cut across the sensitive skin, and then grabbed a tube of antibiotic ointment and hunted Mark down in the living room. “Hey. Wanna see my tattoo? I took the gauze off, letting it air out now, so…”

Mark looked up from where he’d been stretched out along the couch with Chica laying on his feet. He immediately set his laptop aside on the coffee table and sat up. “Yeah. What’s that you’ve got? Is it for the tattoo?” Mark made a valiant attempt to shoo Chica so Jack could have space to sit, but she didn’t seem to be having it. His smile turned sheepish. “She’s comfy.”

“Chiiiica! Chica, I wanna lie across your daddy's legs!” Jack poked and prodded at the dog until she got off Mark's feet, then climbed onto the couch himself, sitting on Mark’s shins. He held up the antibiotic ointment for Mark to see. “It’s Anti-cream, to make sure I don’t go fully Septic…”

Of course, Jack had to giggle. He _always_ giggled now whenever he used antibiotic ointment. Anti. Septic. Heeee…

“Oh my god….” Mark pressed his face into a hand.

“The tattoo is basically an open wound,” Jack explained a little better with a shrug. “So it’s really important to keep it clean and free of bacterias. I already took the bandages off and washed it, and after I let it dry, I need to smear this all over it. Gotta do it for a couple days before it’s healed enough to not need quite so much attention.”

“Guess I’d better just rub it all over you then, huh?” Mark shook his head and let his hand fall to reach for the ointment. He examined the tube with a soft hum. “It’s in a pretty awkward spot. I could help you put it on? Since I’m gonna be looking at it anyway…” He scratched lightly at his stubble as his earlier phrasing gave him an idea. “And… maybe I could _actually_ give you a rubdown? Your back, I mean. It deserves a little pampering after today.”

Jack raised an eyebrow as Mark offered him a “rubdown,” _knowing_ he couldn’t mean what it sounded like he did, but Mark quickly amended an explanation. “You wanna give me a backrub?” He’d been hoping Mark would offer some help with the ointment, but he hadn’t been expecting a full _massage_.

Then again, Mark’s mother _had_ been a masseuse, and had taught her sons a thing or two about giving rubdowns. Jack remembered a certain panel... He crawled up Mark's legs and leaned up to kiss him. “I would _love_ a backrub.” He straddled Mark's thighs, wrapping his arms loosely around Mark's shoulders. “But first, I'd love to just kiss you. And hold you. Thank you. For today. I love you.”

Mark rested his hands snugly on Jack’s hips, squeezing once before rubbing up and down Jack’s sides. “Thank _you._ For doing this. For listening to my concerns about it and letting me choose… It means a lot, Jack. I’d never want to police your body. But I love you. And I love you the way you are.” He reached up between them to cup gently at Jack’s face; drawing it closer. He kissed Jack, sweet and tender, with one hand settled easily on his hip. _“I love you.”_ He murmured into Jack’s mouth before pulling him into another kiss with a slight tilt of his head to better lock their lips.

“You share my life, Mark. Your opinion does matter. You'll see it too, after all.” Jack kissed Mark, kissed his cheeks and his nose and his lips. “More than me, actually. It's important that you're comfortable. Important to me. _You're_ important to me.”

“Likewise.” Mark kissed at Jack’s cheek and then pulled away to give Jack some space.

Nuzzling against Mark's beard, Jack took a deep breath. He drew back and reached for his shirt hem. “Ready for this?”

Mark watched as Jack pulled his shirt off, his hands drifting back to Jack’s exposed skin. He smoothed his palms down Jack’s chest, squeezing, pressing, caressing.

Jack sucked in a breath as Mark's thumbs flicked across his nipples. He bit his lip and tried not to wiggle over Mark's legs as Mark blushed and coughed in embarrassment, pulling his hands away.

“So… ointment. Right. Uh… anything specific I need to worry about? How sensitive is it for you right now?”

“It's not...It feels a little bit raw, like a scraped knee, but it doesn't really _hurt_.” Jack dropped the shirt over the side of the couch, moving gingerly so as not to stretch his skin too much. “Okay, so...just be gentle. Don’t overdo the ointment, just enough to cover it and then rub it in gently. Today is the worst day for the sensitivity, and it'll get better. You can touch it, but not too hard, and don’t rub at it without the ointment.”

“Okay…Jack…Jack. C’mere.” Slowly, Mark slipped his arms around Jack and pulled him closer until they were pressed up flat against each other. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I _want_ to see it… I’m ready.” Mark tucked his chin over Jack’s shoulder, looking down his back, his breath catching in his throat. “Jack… I need you to turn around.”

Jack just breathed for a moment, relaxing against Mark’s chest and just enjoying the closeness. He nuzzled into the crook of Mark's neck and pressed a kiss there, then drew back. “It's okay if it looks red and raw today. It’ll look even worse as it heals, but that’s normal.”

Mark took a breath. “Okay. _Okay._ ”

Mark said he was ready to see it, so Jack met his eyes and then maneuvered himself off Mark's legs so he could turn around. He already had the tattoos memorized, knew exactly where Mark's gaze would fall. “So...what do you think?”

Mark’s hands were secure on Jack’s thighs, thumbs pressing into Jack’s back. Jack could tell the exact moment Mark spotted the tattoo, his breath hitching audibly. “Jack…Jack… you didn’t… you didn’t have to… _Jack._ ”

Jack knew why Mark sounded so heart-wrenched and shocked. Mark had probably assumed Jack would be simply getting Mark’s initials in simple black lineart, like his Bloodborne tattoo. Jack didn’t. His tattoo was red and white, ragged and messy like an old scar. The letters were skewed and scratchy, looking _carved_ into Jack’s skin. The artist had even distressed the skin around the letters with ink and skill, making it look puckered and tight. Jack’s tattoo replicated what Mark’s scar would look like with years of healing, the Ms near-perfect matches, the F cut in the same hand.

Jack had hesitated about having the tattoo look like a scar versus the simple black lettering Mark was expecting. He had wavered even up until he was lying on the bed. _If he wasn’t an obstacle, what would_ ** _you_** _want?_ the artist had asked. _It’s your body. You have to live with it._

Jack wanted the scar. He wanted it messy and damaged and torn, wanted it to show how _he_ had felt, as every scar cut into Mark’s body cut a matching scar into his soul. He didn’t want it neat and clean and pretty. He wanted it to be _meaningful_. And he loved it.

Mark touched the ink and flinched back, clearly struggling behind Jack to understand.

“I wanted to, Mark,” Jack said quietly. “I _wanted_ to. I asked for this. I…” Jack bit his lip, then glanced over his shoulder at Mark, silently pleading with his boyfriend to understand. “I wanted you cut into my skin as deeply as you were cut into my heart. And it’s not perfect or polished but it’s _us_ , it’s you and me, and I love it. Just as it is.”

 _M. F_ _._ Jack could feel Mark’s fingertips skimming over his sensitive skin, drawing _Mark’s_ initials. He bowed forward a little, chewing on his lip to keep from reacting too largely. Mark was tracing the mark and looking up at him…

Mark let his fingertips rest gently over the tattoo and gave a sniffle, then another. “Jack… Jack… Y-you’re too much. You do too much…” His voice broke, and he hunched forward closer to Jack. “I love you. I love you so much, you’re so damn _important_ to me and I’m always so w-worried you’re hurting yourself, you big... big... s-sentimental loserfuck! I don’t know. You know I’m bad with insults when I get all emotional goddammit Jack boyfriends shouldn’t make each other cry this much t-take responsibility fuckdamn…” Mark was crying openly now, pressing his face against the back of Jack’s neck with a soft hiccup. “I-idiot… big, dumb idiot with your stupid ideas always just… _f-fuck…_ ”

Jack twisted around again to gather Mark into his arms. He cradled his boyfriend against his chest and dusted kisses against his hair. “I know, Mark. I know. I’m a big dumb idiot with stupid ideas, but that’s why you love me so much. I know it’s why I love _you_. This didn’t hurt me, Mark. I feel… I feel so much _better_ for it, actually.” Jack really did. He felt connected with Mark, permanently linked, tied together in a way no one could take from them. He was _Mark’s_. Mark was _his._ They belonged to each other. “I love you.”

Mark tucked his arms around Jack again and hid his face in Jack’s shoulder. “I-if it helps you, then… th-then I’m okay. I’m okay w-with it, _I am._ It’s not… it’s not a _real_ scar. You w-weren’t _forced_ to get it. I get that. It just… it looks so _real._ I d-didn’t know how to handle it... Jack…” Mark’s fingers found their way back to the tattoo as if drawn to it, his touch feather-light. Mark snuffled and turned his head so he could press his cheek against Jack’s wet shoulder. “I love you _so much,_ Jack. I do. I… l-let me calm down, and then… I’m gonna give you a backrub. I’m going to help you take care of it. I need... to get used to it.”

Jack shivered as Mark's fingers returned to the tattoo, the scrape of fingertips against raw skin overpowered by the knowledge that Mark was reinforcing his claim. He reached down, sliding one hand to the letters carved into Mark's back. Even if they hadn't been raised, Jack would have known exactly where they were.

 _S.M_. Sean McLoughlin. Jack traced the letters, completing the circle. He was Mark's. Mark was Jack's. And the horror he used to feel over these letters was gone, replaced with a warm _Mine_. Jack sniffed himself, ducking down to hide in Mark's hair as his own tears threatened to fall.

Mark shivered and flattened his hand against the tattoo, claiming Jack right back. His other hand lifted to cradle the back of Jack’s head, carding fingers through his hair. “I've got you.” Mark tugged Jack a little closer, kissing at his shoulder. “I'm here, Jack. I-it's okay. I love you. And I'm so happy you love me back…”

“Is it okay?” Jack asked. He mirrored Mark's gesture on his back, covering the scar completely with his hand. “The...the tattoo? Having your initials?”

It was done now. Even if it wasn't okay **,** there was nothing Jack could do. He wanted to know if Mark understood why Jack had wanted it, _needed_ it now, now that Mark could actually see it. Feel it. Now that Mark had a physical claim on Jack.

Jack squeezed his eyes tight and tried to forbid the tears from falling. He kissed at Mark's hair and whispered “Do you understand?”

 _“I do.”_ The words were a strained, heartfelt whisper into Jack's neck. “I-I understand, Jack, I do. I'm s-sorry. I'm so sorry.” Mark's respective grips on Jack tightened and he pressed his lips against Jack’s skin. “I-it's okay. _They're_ okay…”

Jack gave a quiet laugh of relief into Mark's hair, squeezing him tight. _It was good_. He hadn't screwed anything up by permanently marking his body. Mark was okay with it. Mark _understood._

“Don't apologize, you don't need to apologize. Just...” Jack nuzzled against Mark's scalp, then drew back to look down at him. “Just kiss me? Because I'm as much yours as you are mine?”

Mark looked up at Jack, his face crumpling with too much emotion. “I-if you keep talking like that I'm never gonna stop crying, d-dammit.” But Mark pushed himself up to kiss Jack anyway, wet and sloppy.

Jack met Mark's lips happily, savoring the sloppy kiss. He could taste salt on Mark's lips from his tears and tried to lick away the sadness, his arms tightening around Mark's body.

“You wouldn't be Mark if you weren't a bubble blowing baby half the time,” Jack murmured against his mouth. “Good thing I love all of you…”

“Y-you'd better ‘cause lately it's just been your s-sap making me blubber like this… It's not fair, why aren't y-you this emotional?” Mark whined into Jack’s mouth between their deep yet fleeting kisses. He pressed hard into the next; slotting their mouths together and light dragging fingernails down the back of Jack’s scalp.

“Dunno…” Jack gave a soft moan and shiver at the fingers in his hair, shifting over Mark's legs again and pressing harder into the kiss to match Mark. “Dunno,” he panted. “Guess it's like your voice. Immune to what's inside me…”

“‘S still not fair…”

Jack nipped lightly at Mark's lips before reluctantly pulling back. “Mark...Mark, much as I don't want to stop kissing you, I do need to take care of the tattoo first…”

Mark tried chasing after Jack’s mouth, but paused and deflated at the reminder. “Oh. Oh, right. Okay…” He looked adorably disappointed, like a puppy who had lost his toy.

Still, Mark scritched lightly at Jack’s scalp and thumbed the tattoo one more time before removing his hands. He reached for the ointment Jack had brought along instead. “Get comfortable on your stomach and I'll figure out the best way to sit.”

Jack sighed as Mark drew away, even though it was what he asked for. He shifted around Mark's legs until he could stretch out on the couch, resting his cheek on his folded arms and looking over his shoulder at Mark.

“After this, I'll kiss you all you want,” he promised. “A thousand kisses in payment for a backrub…” Mark had massaged his hand once, at a panel, and Jack had nearly melted on the spot, in front of hundreds of their communities. Now they were in private, Jack was shirtless, and Mark was his _boyfriend_. Jack was going to _enjoy_ this.

“Just being able to see you like this is payment enough…” Mark grinned faintly. His fingers brushed against Jack’s tattoo again, eyes roving over Jack’s body. “It might... might take me a minute, to get sorted back here. Sorry. Just... once I'm settled it'll be fine. Just relax.”

Jack snickered at how cheesy and _gay_ Mark's comment was, but aside from a blush crawling down his face, he didn't respond. He watched Mark as best he could, trying to stay calm and pliant beneath him.

Mark offered Jack a slightly nervous smile then leaned all the way down to press a kiss to the irritated skin around the tattoo. Gingerly, he began the task of positioning himself just behind Jack’s ass.

“I love you,” he said, though his breathing stuttered as Mark kissed his back, so close to the letters. Jack shivered, glad he _was_ face-down. Mark didn't need to deal with his interest on top of everything else. “ _Fuck_ , didn't realize how sensitive I am there right now...in a good way.”

This was definitely a new position for them. Jack could feel the tension of Mark's thighs against his own. Had Mark _ever_ spread his legs this much since the room? Even with Jack face-down, he was still a body between Mark's legs.

Mark’s smile relaxed at the verbal affection. “I love you too. I'll be careful around your tattoo. Just try not to wiggle too much or anything, okay? If it gets ticklish let me know and I'll go somewhere else.”

Mark wasn't sitting on his ass, but when he leaned forward over Jack's back, Jack could feel the pressure of Mark's crotch pressed right up against his butt. Mark wasn't hard right now, so it was just jeans and a metal zip, but Jack bit his lip and tried not to think about how it would feel if Mark _was_ hard and thrust up tight against him.

Mark took a quick moment to smooth his palms down the planes of Jack’s back. “Fucking beautiful. Don't care if you won't believe me; gonna say it anyway,” he quipped in sing-song. “You've got knots out the ass, Jack, holy fuck.”

Jack didn't have to think at all as Mark's warm hands pressed against his back and began rubbing out the tension Jack hadn't even realized was building for months. Jack melted against the couch with a drawn-out groan, his eyes fluttering shut. “Markimom, thank you so, _so_ much for teaching your boy how to massage…”

Mark snorted with amusement and rolled his thumb into a particularly large knot. “Not sure what she'd think about the fact I'm using the skills she taught me on my boyfriend. Try to stay with me here, Jack. Don't follow the light.” He squeezed his thumbs down the narrow channels directly alongside Jack’s spine until his fingers came to the tender skin around his tattoo. Mark paused, though his palms kept up a light press where they lingered. “...if it hurts, tell me.”

“It's, mm, sore, but don't stop!” Jack was a barely Jack-shaped puddle of goo on the couch. “It's hardly anything, like a fresh sunburn, and the ointment makes it feel so much better.”

“Like a sunburn? See, when you say stuff like that, you make me wanna slap it.”

Jack blew a raspberry against his arm at Mark's threat, confident there wouldn't actually be any follow-through. Mark was too worried about Jack getting hurt to actually smack a fresh injury.

Slowly and carefully, Mark applied a layer of ointment to his fingers and then gently rubbed along the fresh ink. “Love you…” Jack moaned as Mark's fingers slid along the letters again. He was not going to get out of this massage without a stiffy in his pants. Mark couldn't see, couldn't feel it, though, and it wasn't interrupting anything. Jack pressed down against the couch and tried to just enjoy the massage.

Mark continued rubbing small, gentle circles over the irritated section of Jack’s skin with one hand, while the other slid back up to begin kneading knuckles into the tight knot just below Jack’s neck. He worked at the muscle like dough and then swept down Jack’s spine when the same motion over each vertebrae. “I mean it, y'know. You'd better not fall asleep on me- well, _under_ me,” he quipped cheekily.

“Oh, trust me, Mark, sleep is pretty far from my mind right now, even if you are making me feel all relaxed…” There was one part of Jack's body that was not growing gooier from Mark's ministrations, and it was fairly demanding. Was that a bit of hardness behind Mark's zip? Jack bit his lip to keep from wiggling back. _Just enjoy what you have. Don't trigger anything…_

“Good. I mean, I guess I'd be flattered if I could put you to sleep with just a little rubdown. But then where would that leave me for the rest of the night?” Mark squeezed at the muscles just beneath Jack’s shoulder blades. “Jack…”

Jack could feel Mark’s dick slowly growing harder against his ass. It was definitely his dick now, and not just a press of the zip. He gave up and gave a little shimmy, just a little wiggle of his hips, to let Mark know that _he_ knew. And he liked it. A lot.

 _“Hngh.”_ Mark sucked in a quick, tight breath through his teeth. He squeezed his thighs against Jack’s and buckled down on his grip as he shuddered over Jack.

“I shouldn’t,” Jack said quietly, cracking his eyes open to look back at Mark, “shouldn’t be lying on my back tonight. Probably not tomorrow night. No getting pressed into walls either. But my side is fine…though I’ll need to wear the shirt to bed, because I don’t want to get any ink or anything on the sheets.”

Mark’s hands paused, then began moving again, up and down Jack’s back, across the span of his shoulders, inching over onto his sides to skirt along the faint ridges of his ribs. Mark was no longer trying to conceal his growing erection. “Jack… Jack, that’s fine, _that’s fine._ It’s okay. I just… we can still do something. We just have to be careful. Maybe… maybe this gives us an excuse to try something.”

Jack’s groan this time was a little less _oooh feels relaxing_ and a little more _oooh feels_ ** _good_** _._ He gave another shimmy as Mark pressed a bit harder against his ass, knowing that they really couldn’t keep this position up for much longer before Jack risked moving too much and setting Mark off. “Oh?” he asked, a little breathless now as he watched Mark leaning over his back. “What did you have in mind, Markiplur?”

 _“Ohfuck...”_ Mark’s hands stilled on Jack’s back, then pushed himself up. “First: we need to move. I’m sorry if I’m cutting the backrub a little short here but Jack. I’ve got a major boner. And I have a feeling you do too. And if we don’t do something about our major boners _really soon_ I’m probably gonna die. Just straight die. Do not pass go; do not collect a resurrection.” Mark scrubbed at his face and half a second later made a disturbed sound. “ _Eugh,_ fuck, fuckfuckfuck the ointment _gross-”_

“Oh thank fuck, because if we didn’t move, I’d probably do something we’d both regret…” Jack wiggled again, but this time it was forward, moving away from the press of Mark’s body so he could twist around and sit up. “Not that your backrub wasn’t _heavenly_. I just…” Jack glanced at his lap just in time to miss Mark scrubbing at his face, but he looked up again, quickly giggling at Mark’s expression. “At least it’s just antiseptic? How about… how about we move to the bedroom, with a pitstop in the bathroom? You can wash your hands, and we’ll grab a towel…”

Really, they should just get a stack of towels solely for bedroom usage. How the fuck did people survive without bedroom towels? “Fuck, Mark, you make me as horny as a teenager again. Not cool. Except the bits that totally are…”

Mark was still pulling a face. _“Please.”_ He got to his feet with some adjusting of his crotch, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Jack. I can’t even look at you right now without wanting to bend you in half and do things that would get _both_ our channels permanently banned from YouTube. Don’t think for a single second you don’t drive my ‘adult’ hormones back a good ten years or so.”

Jack’s eyes were dark and he _whined_ at the sound of what he had decided was Mark’s sex voice, unable to keep the sound inside. Mark was looking at him with a hunger in his eyes that Jack wanted to feed. Even his sweats felt way too tight now, and Jack had to curl his hands into the fabric to keep from reaching for his erection. “Bathroom,” he said, forcing himself to get to his feet and move _away_ from Mark. “Bathroom, then bedroom, Mark…”

He wasn’t going to ask Mark when he’d considered recording their sex life. He _wasn’t_ , because he knew that Mark hadn’t even thought about his words, and if he did now, he’d probably fall right out of the mood. Jack did not want to do anything that risked stopping Mark from ‘bending him in half and doing things to get their channels perma-banned.’ Quite the contrary. He’d tell Mark that later. In the bedroom. When they didn’t need to be quite so tightly wound.

Mark steadied himself with a few deep breaths. “Right. Right. Bathroom, then bedroom. Bathroom, then bedroom. Bathroom- you don’t need it, do you? Because Jack. If we get in that small space together I _cannot_ be held accountable for my actions. I’m sorry. I can get the towel if you just want to get comfortable and get the tattoo… situated.” Mark’s hands were tugging and pulling at his own shirt, clearly a distraction from reaching for Jack.

“Yeah, no, I don’t need the bathroom, I just…” Jack gestured at his glasses. “I’ll leave them in the bedroom tonight. Just make sure you don’t mix them up in the morning.” Gone were the days when Jack _had_ to leave his glasses in the bathroom so Mark never risked grabbing the wrong pair in a panic, but he still did it out of habit now. “I’ll be in the bedroom…” He started getting ideas and gave Mark his best attempt at a sultry smile. “-don’t keep me waiting…”

Before Mark could respond, Jack ducked out of the living room to get into the bedroom before Mark could catch him. He closed the door and set his glasses on the dresser, then pushed the duvet down to the foot of the bed. That way, when they finished, they could just pull it up and not have to worry about wiggling it out from beneath them.

Bed ready, Jack climbed on and situated himself on his side, facing the door. He propped his head up in one hand and bent his upper leg, trying to make a sexy pout for when Mark came in. But what could he _say_? _Draw me like one of your French girls?_ Ha, no, Titanic references were Mark’s forte. _C’mere, big boy?_ That had Jack cringe-laughing even in the privacy of his own mind. Absolutely not!

When Mark burst into the bedroom, after literally running down the hall, he had to blink at Jack. “Jack?” His eyes swept over Jack’s body, and he gave a little snort. “Let me guess. You want me to draw you like one of my American girls?”

“I was gonna say something totally hotter than that,” Jack said, pooching out his lower lip a little more at Mark, “but kept coming up with stupid things. So hows about we _pretend_ I said something incredibly hot and you get your ass over here so I can ravish you properly?” Mark’s face was wet and his jeans were tight and Jack _really_ wanted to get his hands on his boyfriend, even if Mark was teasing him for failing to be sexy.

“Jack, I don’t think you realize the thing you just said _is_ incredibly hot. How you manage to excel at everything by pure _accident_ is so beyond me. Please never stop.” Mark didn’t need to be asked twice. He tossed a towel he’d been holding onto a bottom corner of the bed and came at Jack, tugging his shirt off and dropping it to the floor as he approached.

Jack held his breath as Mark approached him, watching the shirt-removal show with no small amount of pleasure. He _loved_ Mark’s muscles, loved how they moved beneath his skin, small reminders of just how fucking _ripped_ his boyfriend was (and it still _wasn’t fair_!). He remembered how Mark had held up up easily, pinning him against the wall, and he licked his lips even as he sat up to reach for Mark…

“Jack, I fucking _love_ seeing you without a shirt on but I think you made a specific point earlier…”

...and then Mark went and mentioned his shirt. _Dammit_. Jack groaned and flopped his hands back to the bed. “Okay… give me your shirt. It’s closest. I don’t have to wear it _now_ , but I’ll put it on before we go to sleep.”

“My shi..” Mark’s eyes went even darker, snatching up his shirt again and dropping it on the bed beside the towel. He climbed onto the bed, crawling up immediately to kiss Jack. When Mark pulled away, he was smiling. The hand not supporting his weight reached up to cradle Jack’s jaw line. “Next time you wanna say something sexy, just _talk,_ Jack. Because you’ve hit two homeruns in a row already.”

Meeting the kiss eagerly, Jack snaked his arms around Mark’s back. He needed the kiss just as much as his boyfriend. “I’m only sexy around you. I’m a big derp every other time.” For some reason, Jack’s derp turned Mark on. He had no idea why, but he was learning not to complain. If Mark liked his derp, Jack would crank it up for his boyfriend.

“I love you for both.” Mark whispered against Jack’s lips.

Jack dipped in for another kiss, taking his time to delve into Mark’s mouth, his fingers finding the scar on Mark’s back. _Mine._ “You said you wanted to try something?” he asked when he finally pulled back to breathe.

Mark sighed deeply into Jack’s mouth. When they broke apart, he took a deep breath and smiled again. “I do…”

Mark’s thumb brushed along the corner of Jack’s mouth as he met Jack’s eyes. “...you said you couldn’t lay on your back, right? And no walls. So… I just thought… maybe it’d be easiest if you were on top?” He glanced at Jack’s face before looking to the bedspread, licking his lips nervously. “Like back in the living room. When you kissed me. I… I liked it. _A lot._ And I just… I wanted to try that. Some more. If that’s okay.”

“ _Oh…_ ” Jack hadn’t really straddled Mark before. He’d always been too aware that climbing on top of Mark would trap him too much, pin him to a padded surface and cut off his escape routes. That didn’t mean he didn’t _want_ to straddle Mark’s legs, sit in his lap and grind against him, holding him close and… “Oh _yes_ , let’s try that! Just… just tell me if you need me to get off, ‘kay?” He grinned, snickering at himself before he even finished his statement. “In either sense of the word.”

Mark was always so hesitant when he wanted to try something new, except for that one time he picked Jack up. It broke Jack’s heart just a little. He knew the huge-egoed Markiplier, brash and loud and ready to fight the world, was just an act, an exaggeration, but even privately with his friends, Mark was never _hesitant_. Not like this. He was quieter and more willing to cooperate, but he wasn’t _scared_ of how his ideas would be received. Mark’s suggestions were always voiced with anxiety these days, but when Jack agreed enthusiastically, Mark’s nerves just melted away and his smiles turned bright and sunny again. “Ha ha. Very funny. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jack set his hands on Mark’s shoulders, nudging him gently, encouraging him to get in a better position. Mark swallowed hard as he complied. “Just- just _careful._ Careful. I know.. you’re excited. Me too. Just…” He released a shaky sigh as he laid back with shoulders slightly propped up by the pillows. _“Please.”_

Jack climbed over Mark’s thighs and gave an experimental wiggle nowhere near Mark’s groin. “This okay?”

Mark clutched at the sheets again, this time with both hands. He kept his muscles taut and stared into Jack’s face, refusing to look down. “Y... yeah. Yeah. It’s okay…”

Jack cupped Mark’s face in his hands and kissed him softly. “I love you,” he told his boyfriend. “Just… just talk to me, okay? Direct me. You get full control. I’ll just sit here and look pretty until you tell me otherwise.” He sat back a little, making exaggerated kissy-faces at Mark and running his hands down his own bare chest, wiggling slightly in a dance to music only he could hear.

Mark broke and immediately began to giggle at the ridiculous sight before him. “If that's you ‘looking pretty’ then I'm scared to ask what you _really_ think ‘looking sexy’ is. Would it involve you dancing an Irish jig?” He made grabby hands at Jack’s just-out-of-reach hips and grunted; fingertips brushing at Jack’s knees. “Get over here. I wanna touch you. I…”

Mark took a hard breath. “They wouldn't sit there. On my… my lap. My groin. They didn't want... to feel my dick, like that, Jack. They… they sat there, like you are, or... or higher. Up here.”

“I already danced a jig for you,” Jack pointed out. He scooted up Mark’s legs as soon as Mark started explaining. He hadn’t realized that thighs might be a bad place to sit. But Mark didn’t seem triggered, and Jack really was all too happy to settle down over Mark’s hips, the bulge in his pants just brushing against Mark’s. Jack bit his lip a little as he forced himself to stop ‘dancing.’ “Or, at least, clicked my heels. Remember?” All the way back when Mark first left the hospital and Jack was just trying to get him to use a camera app again. Jack had donned a stupid stereotypical headband and pretended to be a leprechaun to get Mark laughing again. Back then, Mark’s laughs had been as rare as sunshine in an Irish winter, and his smiles even harder to eke out. Now Mark was so much quicker to joy. It really was a good sign of how far he’d come. Back then, this much contact would have been impossible. Jack used to have to watch himself to never accidentally so much as brush Mark’s arm. He looked up to meet Mark’s eyes. _I am so,_ ** _so_** _proud of you…_

Mark wheezed out an amused chuckle. “Oh yeah. I remember that. I think I've still got those pictures in my phone. Guess I'd better keep’em in mind for the next St. Patty’s day.” Immediately, Mark’s hands latched tight onto Jack’s hips. Mark took a chance and wiggled his hips a bit. He gasped softly. “T-touch me. Jack, _touch me._ S-slowly.. _ah…”_ Mark’s chest was heaving; his muscles twitching.

Jack groaned as Mark wiggled beneath him, holding him in place and rubbing their dicks together so lightly. He leaned forward as Mark begged for his touch, mimicking Mark’s position earlier on the couch. Unlike Mark, though, Jack did not attempt to keep Mark from feeling his erection. He let their groins press together, rubbing up against him as he set his hands on Mark’s stomach and slid upward, feeling out his boyfriend.

“ _Jesus_ , Mark, your body is incredible.” Jack spread his hands across scars and unblemished skin without any difference. He wasn’t blind to the flaws on Mark’s body, but he didn’t see them as true flaws. Some nights, when Mark was exceptionally down about his appearance, Jack reminded Mark of how _good_ his scars were, useful roadmaps to show Jack exactly where to kiss and lick. His favorite was a thin scar that curved toward a nipple, like an arrow showing him exactly where to put his mouth. He made sure Mark appreciated that one too. When his fingers brushed against it, Jack didn’t ignore it. Instead, he traced down the length and circled Mark’s nipple, just as the scar instructed him to. He kept his other hand moving, stroking over Mark’s body, soothing his nervous muscles.

Mark moaned while his thumbs rubbed circles into the hollows of Jack’s hips. He squeezed when his nipple was teased and arched up into the touch with a soft gasp. His own hips rolled up as his dick twitched against Jack’s. “ _There._ Jack, touch me there Jack _please_. J-just your hands, I… I need to see…”

Mark loved having his nipples played with, and Jack was all too happy to indulge. He let his other hand settle over Mark's nipple as well, flicking over the tight buds, rolling them between his fingers, giving the occasional pinch immediately soothed by gentle rubbing.

As Mark moaned and rolled beneath him, Jack rocked his own hips, sketching little circles that drove their dicks together. He groaned with each thrust, matching Mark's rhythm. He wanted to do so much more than just grind against Mark. He wanted to kiss him, not just his lips. Jack wanted to get his mouth on Mark's skin again, taste the golden expanse laid out before him. He wanted to shift forward so Mark wasn't thrusting against his dick, but rather his ass, simulating the sex that Jack craved more and more every time they came together like this. He _wanted_ to do more, but he didn't. Mark was in control. Mark had to tell Jack what to do, so Jack didn't trigger anything. Jack could only lick his lips as his gaze roved over Mark's body. “Beautiful…”

“Jack...” Mark could drag Jack around with barely any problems, and he used his hands on Jack’s hips to do just that, pulling him forward. Their dicks ground together, but then Mark was tugging Jack up, his dick running over Jack's balls before settling against his ass. Jack gasped at the sensation, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, but then Mark was rumbling _Move_ at him and thrusting up against his ass and Jack _had_ to rock back. He couldn't have stopped himself if he'd wanted to.

Jack had never “ridden” a man before. He wasn't sure how to move at first, but he remembered watching his exes do this, remembered the flex and push of their thighs. It took him a minute to figure out a rhythm, leaning more heavily on Mark’s chest than he would have liked, but he eventually was able to lift himself up, dragging his ass over Mark’s denim-clad erection and pushing down as if Mark was actually fucking into him. Jack groaned deep in his chest and panted out soft whimpers with every thrust, his overactive imagination taking things several steps further, stripping away their clothes, letting Jack feel Mark with his bare skin, his body, _in_ his body...Jack forced his eyes open again, blown wide with his desire, staring down at Mark as he rolled his body over his boyfriend’s. “Fuck, Mark, _fuck…_ ”

Mark rocked them through the motions for a minute or two. He arched into the hands pressed against his chest and echoed Jack’s desperate groans, sweat trickling down that perfect body. “Jack.” Mark wheezed again; gripping Jack’s hips and making him still. “Jack, I need...” He started to pull Jack further up, but a flare of anxiety burst across his face and Mark immediately stopped, pushing Jack back instead, dragging their erections together. He groaned in a mixture of arousal and frustration. _“Pants._ Pants, Jack, my jea- m-my fucking- dammit-”

Jack yelped and moaned as Mark dragged him up and shoved him back, letting his boyfriend move him without any resistance other than what he needed to keep from falling over. He ground against Mark’s dick and gave a breathless laugh as he realized what Mark was asking for.

“Gotcha, I gotcha, I got this…” Jack managed to stop rocking against Mark’s pelvis so he could drag his hands away from Mark’s chest. He was still panting heavily, his pale skin flushed, but he had _some_ self-control, dammit! He touched Mark’s fly, pressed his hand against the bulge there, then pushed the button loose. The zip practically slid down on its own from how hard Mark’s dick was pushing up against it. Jack tried to resist fondling Mark too much. He hadn’t been given permission for that, and it was still a new, uncertain thing, touching Mark’s dick. It didn’t stop him from sneaking his fingers in to slide up the length of Mark’s cock, just once, pressing a finger into the tip, but then Jack pulled his hands away to grab the waist of Mark’s jeans.

“Fuck…Than _nghnks-_ ** _Jack!_** ” Mark lifted off the mattress with a strangled sound.

“Hips up…” Jack lifted himself off of Mark to give himself room to maneuver, tugging Mark’s jeans down his hips and reaching behind him to pull them down his thighs. Mark gave a few kicks to get them off completely.

Jack licked his lips again as he glanced down between them, seeing Mark’s erection tenting the thin fabric of his boxers. He had sucked Mark off through that cotton before, and it had been _amazing_. His mouth watered at the memory, and Jack had to tear his eyes away before he started to drool. “Good?” he asked Mark, still holding himself up, not bringing them back in contact, not yet. “Good? Too much? More?”

Mark’s hands settled back on Jack’s hips with a newfound gentleness. He stroked his thumbs over the smooth skin just above Jack’s waistband. He breathed; beads of sweat trickling down his flushed chest and neck. He found his words. “I'm okay. I'm okay, Jack. I love you. I… Jack. I want to know. Please tell me… it's okay… What do _you_ want? Tell me what you want me to do- what _you_ want to do. To me.”

“What _I_ want?” Jack asked with a laugh. “Mark, I _want_ more than I know you can give. I want us to be naked, to feel your body without _any_ clothes between us. I want…” His blush grew darker, crawling down his chest, but Jack pressed on. No shame. Not in front of Mark. “I _want_ you inside me, either… either my ass or… or want to suck you off. I want…”

“I know that, Jack.” Mark was blushing deeper to match Jack, a bit of disappointment in his voice as Jack asked for what Mark couldn’t give him.

Jack trailed off and smiled, cocking his head to the side. “I want to kiss you. I _really_ want to kiss you.”

Jack didn’t want to make Mark feel bad for not being able to do everything Jack wanted. He was happy without it, he _was_. He loved sitting over Mark like this, exploring his chest, riding up against his cock. He was rock hard in his own sweats, the thick fabric tented in front of him and obvious to Mark’s dark eyes. Jack loved that he could show himself to Mark like this, that he didn’t need to bury his interest in his best friend any longer. He could indulge in Mark’s presence, drink him in, _worship_ him. Jack slid his hands up Mark’s chest, carefully letting himself sink back down to straddle Mark’s groin with a soft, drawn-out moan.

Mark tugged Jack a couple inches more forward. “Then kiss me. And tell me what you want that I _can_ do. That we've done. Jack, anything _you_ do at this point is gonna get me off. I don't care if it's your mouth or your dick or your ass- god _fuck_ do I love your ass; wiggle it some more- on me. It'll do the job. I want to know how _you_ want it. How you want us to get off here; like this. Together. Jack…” There was endeared longing in Mark’s eyes and tone. His hands had finally released Jack only to grab at him again. “Please. That's what I want.”

Jack wiggled for Mark, rubbing over Mark’s hard erection, giggling under his breath at how _stupid_ he felt (and at the same time, how _goddamn hot it was_ ). He leaned forward, leaned over Mark with their arms intertwined, trapping his own dick between their bodies as he ground back against Mark’s. He pressed their mouths together, the kiss sloppy and hot and threatening to consume them both.

Jack kissed Mark until his head was spinning and his lungs aching. He drew away from Mark’s mouth and ran his tongue over his lips. “ _Fuck me,_ ” he whispered, meeting Mark’s eyes. “Like this.” He arched his back again, rubbing his ass against the bulge in Mark’s underwear. “Make me feel you through our clothes.” With their bodies pressed so tightly together to allow for the kiss, every thrust of Mark’s hips dragged Jack’s dick against Mark’s abs, sparking delicious friction that made him throb in his pants. He was very quickly discovering how much he _loved_ feeling Mark with his ass, even without the wall behind him, and if he could lean in to kiss Mark again at the same time… _perfect._ As perfect as they could get, at least. For now.

Mark’s breaths were short and quick from his mouth while he clutched at Jack. Mark managed to worm an arm free and cup tenderly at Jack’s face. He was still panting heavily, but his brown eyes had softened. “...okay. Okay, I can... I can do that. _I can._ Jack. Jack, just… let me lead, okay? Y-you can move, you don't have to stop yourself. But let me lead. Is that okay? Can you do that?”

Jack nodded over Mark, using his now-free arm to brace against the bed. “I love you,” he told Mark, leaning in to brush their lips together. “Okay? _I love you_. If you need me to get off, I’m okay with that. I _am_. Just tell me.”

Mark had heard Jack’s reassurances thousands of times by now, but Jack always felt he needed to repeat himself, just in case. Just to make sure his words were fresh in Mark’s mind. To make sure Mark really knew that Jack still meant it. Mark’s comfort came first. It _always_ came first.

Mark stared into Jack’s eyes a few moments longer, then sighed. He pushed up to kiss at Jack’s lips once more. “I love you. Thank you.” His thumb stroked along the arch of Jack’s cheek bone and he stole one last kiss before leaning back into the pillows again. Dislodging both arms this time, Mark stroked around to Jack’s back. His fingers lingered at Jack’s tattoo; tracing the letters before sliding lower to grope Jack’s ass through his sweats. “Thank you for being so patient.”

Jack shivered at the fingers on his tender skin, whining softly as he felt the initials traced into his back. He dipped his head to nose against Mark’s neck, bracing himself with both forearms against the bed at Mark’s suggestion. Mark groped his ass and gripped his hips, and Jack tried to keep himself loose, trusting in Mark, in Mark’s hands.

“Hang on.” Seconds later Mark was rolling his hips up into the cleft of Jack’s ass. He gasped; throwing his head back as his eyelids fluttered. _“Jack._ Fuck, _Jack._ Feel so.. feel so.. _nngh,_ good. Amazing. _Awesome_. Kiss me, Jack.”

Mark’s first thrust drew another whine from Jack’s throat, building in intensity with each subsequent thrust. Mark was rocking Jack back to meet each roll of his hips. He barely moved Jack at all, but his body moved beneath Jack’s, rubbing against Jack’s dick and pressing up into his ass as if he really _could_ fuck him through his clothes. Jack let his mouth hang open, panting sloppily against Mark’s neck, not trying to hold any of his sounds back. It felt _amazing_ , more than amazing, Mark was _incredible_ , and asking Jack to kiss him, and Jack had to shove off the bed so he could lean forward and meet Mark’s mouth again. He kissed him hard, desperate for even more, for that last _shove_ to push him over the edge.

Mark rocked and thrust against Jack, _into_ Jack, with a growing fervor that eventually lost any sense of rhythm. It was just Mark and himself, endless friction as they came together, over and over. Mark was practically bucking Jack off the bed when he drew close to his orgasm. Jack rolled back against each of Mark’s thrusts as Mark’s rhythm started to falter, picking up some of the movement himself, helping Mark drive himself as hard against Jack’s body as he could. Mark’s teeth sunk into Jack’s lip as he came, and Jack groaned and shuddered. He could _feel_ Mark’s climax against his ass, feel the scratches in his skin from Mark’s nails, and all he needed to do was drive his hips down one more time, dragging his clothed dick up Mark’s flat belly to give himself that last burst of friction that sent himself over the edge.

There was blood in his mouth as Jack sagged on top of Mark, his eyes fluttering closed, his body limp. “Unggg…” he tried to speak. “ _Uuunf…_ ” He giggled and nuzzled against the side of Mark’s face, feeling their breathing wildly out of sync with each other, slowly falling into the same rhythm as their bodies calmed and cooled. Jack rubbed his tongue against his inner lip, feeling the spot Mark had bit him, and smiled to himself. That would definitely leave a mark tomorrow…

Mark sluggishly wrapped his arms around the body pressed to his own and kissed sloppily at Jack’s ear. He rumbled out a contented hum from deep in his chest. “ _Mine._ Mine, mine, mine, mine, miiiiiiine~” he cooed almost drunkenly. “Losers.”

Mark was singing a song with one word, cooing it into Jack’s ear, and Jack’s little giggles turned into full-fledged laughter. He kissed and nipped at Mark’s shoulder, nodding along with the words. “Yours, yours, yours…and you’re mine, mine, mine…” Was Mark calling _them_ losers, or Chica or…

Oh fuck. _Chica._ Jack stiffened, then pushed himself up a little to look down at Mark, forcing himself to focus. “Did you put Chica to bed?”

“Mmmm…? Chica? Whaddya mean bed? Animatronics don't… don't… oh.” Mark blinked as some clarity returned to his eyes. Then he tensed as well with a grimace. “Oh. Crap. No, I didn't. I didn't even- fuck. Jack, we gotta…”

Jack groaned, flopping off Mark and onto his side. “Gotta set the alarm too.” He didn’t want to get up, but Chica couldn’t be trusted out of her crate all night. Not with all the woodwork in the house. “Uggggh...I can do it. If you want to stay here.” He leaned in to kiss Mark’s cheek. “Gotta change my pants anyway…”

“Have I told you that you're literally the best boyfriend in the world? In the history of forever and ever? Because you are. And I love you. Like a lot. A lot a lot. Jack. Jack, don't take too long okay? I wanna cuddle. My cuddle meter is criminally empty right now _Jaaaack.”_ Mark’s hands stubbornly clung to Jack even as he pulled away.

Jack tugged at Mark’s hands, pressing his lips to each of Mark’s knuckles as he worked himself away from his boyfriend. “While I am gone, you change your pants and warm the bed up, kay? Give me a nice warm cuddle-nest to return to.” He kissed Mark’s fingertips and finally got to his feet, picking up the towel. “Also, I’m not gonna bother with changing in the bathroom. Don’t look if you don’t wanna see the Jackabooty.” It was going to be hard enough to get Chica to do her business and crated. Jack didn’t want to have to go any further than necessary.

Mark sighed forlornly. “Okay. Okay, I'll get the bed ready for you. Just hurry back,” he huffed with a little pout.

Jack’s pants felt squelchy and uncomfortable as he made his way to the dresser, pulling out clean underwear for himself and Mark. He tossed Mark his boxers and then turned away, hesitating only a moment before stepping out of his clothes. Mark was his _boyfriend._ They had just gotten off together by simulating Mark fucking Jack up the ass. Jack could get naked in the same room. He cleaned himself off as best he could with the towel, toying with his sore lip again, and then pulled the fresh underwear and pants on. Done.

He was still gonna wear Mark’s shirt. Because it smelled like Mark.

“Jack….” Mark waited until Jack looked back at him before continuing, an affectionate little smile on his face. “...that is so huge on you I think I might just _die._ ”

“I’m supposed to wear loose-fitting clothing,” Jack sniffed, sticking his nose in the air before collapsing into a grin. He hugged his arms around himself and snuggled down into the shirt. “Also it smells like you. Like I’m taking your hug with me. Shuddup. You get the bed-hugs.”

Mark snorted. “Guess it's a good thing your boyfriend is just so damn ripped then, huh?” He beamed lazily at Jack from the bed. “Oh woe is me. Forced to wait for the bed-hugs. Unless you mean _your_ smell. ‘Cause… yeah. Yeah, that's kind of everywhere. _Awesome._ ” He pressed his nose into the pillow and closed his eyes as he breathed.

“Oh Mark, there are _many_ reasons why it’s a good thing you’re so damn ripped.” Jack let his gaze wander down Mark’s exposed stomach before returning to those dark eyes. “I mean, hot _damn_ , boy!” Mark’s boxers had a decidedly darker patch in the front, though, and Jack wasn’t going to watch Mark get cleaned up. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said. “And I’ll knock first.”

“Sean McLoughlin: luckiest leprechaun alive!” Mark called after Jack.

Jack left the room before Mark could tempt him back to bed, closing the door behind him. Chica sat in the hall just outside. She perked up when she saw Jack, her tail wagging and ears lifting.

“Heh… were you listening? Your daddy was having some adult fun with your uncle Jack.” Jack ruffled Chica’s ears. “Wanna go potty, girl?”

Chica borfed and trotted off down the hall. Jack followed her to the back door to let her out. While she was doing her business, he went around and turned off all the lights, then called her back inside. Chica got a good rubdown of the nonsexual kind and a kiss between her eyes before Jack sent her into her crate with her favorite pink teddy bear. “Night-night, dogger! You be good!”

After setting the alarm system, Jack headed through the dim hallway for the bedroom. Surely Mark had gotten changed by now. Jack still knocked anyway, covering a yawn with his arm. His back was starting to ache. Sleep was best now.

“Get in here and cuddle me, you tiny Irish bastard.”

Jack pushed the door open and his eyes went wide. Mark had piled up all of their pillows and blankets into a little fort with just enough of a divot in the middle for them to snuggle together. Mark was waiting there, tucked beneath the duvet and beaming up at Jack. He really took “cuddle-nest” seriously! Jack had just meant to get under the duvet and warm things up… but he was a little boy at heart, and would never pass up the opportunity to cuddle up in a blanket fort.

“Chica’s settled, alarm is on, and you are too tempting to resist.” Jack carefully eased himself under the blankets, settling against Mark’s chest with a happy sigh. Mark’s shirt smelled like him, but it couldn’t hold a candle to Mark himself. Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath as Mark’s arms folded around him. “Mm. Best day so far. I love you. Thank you.”

“Could say the same about you in that shirt. Or all the time.” Mark nuzzled his face into Jack’s hair with a smile. Giving a content little sigh, Mark let one of his hands slide down to linger at Jack’s lower back. The pressure he applied was almost non-existent, but it was there. “Love you too. And thanks, ‘cause I couldn't have made it the best without you. Wouldn't want to.” He kissed Jack’s hair and squeezed him close. “G’night, Jack.”

“Maybe I’ll wear your clothes more often.” Jack let his arms slide around Mark’s body, covering the SM on his boyfriend’s back with a hand and mimicking Mark’s position. _Yours. Mine. Ours._ “Good night, Mark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monday is a Clay-only update, just FYI!
> 
> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	50. Evening 225: Beneath the Willow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stories this tree could tell...

Jack could tell, just from Mark’s face, that he had been crying during his appointment with Dr. Agon. Mark shook his head and didn’t talk about it on the bus ride home, though his arm kept brushing against Jack’s. As soon as they were in the relative privacy of their street, Mark’s fingers laced through his, and Jack squeezed his hand reassuringly. Whatever had gone wrong, they’d get through it together. They always did.

He had a sinking feeling he knew what had gone wrong, though. Mark’s health had been considerably improving. One of these days, they’d have to talk about Mark returning to America. As much as they both wanted to pretend this idyllic life in Ireland could last forever… it couldn’t. Reality would assert itself.

At home, Jack kissed Mark’s reddened cheek and went into the kitchen to make tea without being asked. He brought the mugs out to the garden where Mark was sitting beneath the willow tree with Chica and offered a cheeky kitten mug to the other man before sitting beside him. He let his arm wrap around Mark’s back, but he said nothing, waiting for Mark to speak.

Mark leaned into Jack’s side immediately. He pressed close as their bodies would allow while his hands cradled the warm mug. He drew a breath. “Jack…” His voice wavered, and he dropped his gaze down to his cup. “...you probably already know what I’m gonna say here. You probably knew when you saw my face, I… Jack. Dr. Agon says I’m healed. He says there isn’t enough damage or illness anymore for him to renew my medical visa, I, Jack… They’re gonna send me back to L.A.”

Jack was silent as he heard the words he'd been dreading. “I'm glad you're healed,” he finally said, and damn, but his voice was already growing tight. Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath, leaning over to rest his head on Mark's shoulder.

He _was_ glad Mark had healed. That rasp in his voice had lingered for _months_ , a constant sign of how poorly he had been treated in that room (if the scars weren't enough). He had almost gotten used to the rasp, but now that Mark's voice was healthy and strong again, Jack was glad.

“Me too.”

“How long?” Jack asked. “How much longer do I get to keep you to myself?”

Mark tilted his head to press his cheek against Jack’s hair. Chica, sensing the distress of her human children, shifted to rest her head on Mark’s lap. He rewarded her with a few ear scratches. “...the eighteenth, he said. Recommended I leave a bit sooner, though. In case there’s any delays. Guess immigration gets pissy if you stick around past your deadline. I don’t want you getting into any trouble.”

“The eighteenth!? That's not even a full month…” Jack felt his heart twist tighter in his chest and frowned, turning into Mark's side. He didn't want Mark to go. Mark needed to go.

“What am I going to do without you?” he asked quietly. “The house'll be too big...fuck, the garden'll fall apart!”

“I know…Jack…” Mark shook his head and set the tea aside carefully as he could on the grass. “Jack.” He pulled Jack into a hug and kissed at his hair. “...I don’t want to go, either. But I have to. We knew this was gonna happen. I… we’ll figure something out. We _always_ do. You survived without me for years…Maybe you could get a dog. You get along well with Chica, and... the house wouldn’t seem so big then. And… and I can set up the garden before I go. Harvest the rest of the vegetables. It’ll take at least a year for it to seriously overgrow…” Mark said it as if he would be coming back.

“If I'm on my own, I don't have enough discipline for a dog,” Jack confessed. He set his mug aside and wrapped his arms around Mark. One hand settled automatically over the SM hidden beneath Mark's shirt. “...I want you to find me a gardener. Someone who can take care of things the way you'd want it, when you're not here.” Jack silently agreed with Mark: Mark _would_ come back. And Jack didn't want the garden to be too abandoned for that day.

“...hope you weren’t expecting me to argue with that one.” Mark’s own fingers wandered down to mimic the gesture, pressing over Jack’s tattoo. “Okay. Okay, I’ll add it to the to-do list. Find Jack a really awesome gardener that loves plants and isn’t too hot.”

Jack snorted and shook his head. “You're worried about _my_ eyes wandering? You're gonna be back in L.A., land of the movie stars. And Tyler. And the Grumps. _Danny._ ”

Not that Jack thought Mark would do anything with any of their attractive friends. Jack turned his head to kiss Mark's neck. “I...I can come with you, for a bit,” he confessed. “I've known this was coming, so Robin's been helping me knock out some extra videos. If I really buckle down these next couple of days, I can take...probably a week off. Plus travel. So I can come with you on the flight, at least, and make sure you get settled in back home…”

Mark pulled back from Jack to look at him with shock and awe in his face as he gripped his boyfriend by the biceps. It took him a moment to form coherent sentences. “What?? Really? You’re gonna come to L.A. with me?”

Jack cocked his head to the side, looking up at Mark with innocent blue eyes. “What, you thought I'd just kiss you goodbye at the airport and leave you to fend for yourself? Of course I'm coming to L.A., if only to make sure you have the correct tea-making supplies in your kitchen.”

He leaned in to kiss Mark again, lazily bringing their mouths together over and over again. “It's also,” he murmured against Mark's lips, “the _biggest_ change you've been through. I'm not going to make you face it alone.”

Mark melted, just like that. His hands slipped down Jack’s arms to grasp at knobby fingers. He leaned in; meeting Jack for every kiss. Mark squeezed tight at Jack’s hands. “Jack… Jack, I love you. _Fuck,_ I fucking love you, I wish I didn’t have to go. I wish we could just stay together like this god I’ve never hated the ocean so much. The ocean needs to suck my dick, Jack. I don’t want you so far away.”

“The ocean doesn't get to suck your dick before I get to,” Jack grumbled, but he let Mark melt against him, squeezing their hands together and meeting him kiss for kiss.

Mark sputtered, but there was a chuckle in it. He shook his head and finally stopped kissing Jack so he could bury his face into Jack’s hair again. “Promise you’ll be the first. Don’t worry.”

“I love you, Mark. I _do_. And we...we can try to make a long-distance relationship work. It's not like we didn't talk to each other a lot before all this went down. We can do it again. We just won't be sleeping together…”

(Even though that was the best part.)

“That’s gonna be so fucking hard, Jack. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. How am I gonna go a day without kissing you?”

“It sucks, but you'll get intimately acquainted with your hand again.” Jack sighed, burrowing into Mark's neck and trying not to let his heart rip in half. He knew all too well how much long-distance relationships _sucked_ , especially after a period together. “And when we _are_ in the same place again, it'll be that much more incredible for the wait. It really will. And there's always Skype. Or sexting.”

“It’s not the sexual relief I’m worried about.” Mark gently dragged his chin through Jack’s hair. He pressed another kiss to Jack’s head and released a sigh through his nose. When he spoke again, the words were murmured into Jack’s hair. “I’m going to miss _you._ I’m going to miss kissing you, and holding you, and cuddling with you just about anywhere. I’m gonna miss waking up in the morning and immediately seeing your face. I’m gonna miss running my hands through your hair and god this sounds so fucking gay but I don’t even care. It’s true.”

Jack drew back enough to press his mouth to Mark's, taking his time to thoroughly kiss his boyfriend. “ _This_ will be even better for the wait. And this.” He hugged Mark and sunk against his chest again. “And hugging yourself is a thing, sad as it may be.” He sighed and nuzzled into Mark's shoulder. “I'm gonna miss how you smell, and waking up to either you in my arms or the smell of coffee brewing. I'm gonna miss your weight against my side as we work at night, and Chica on our feet. I'm gonna miss you too. I just...don't want to think about it yet.”

Mark held Jack close; expression solemn and somber. “I don’t either. We’ve got a few weeks, right? We should just… do what we need to, and try to enjoy them while they last. Here, _and_ in Los Angeles. So we’ll have memories to think about when we’re apart.” He kissed at the side of Jack’s head one more time and then settled; closing his eyes. “Here, or halfway across the world, I’ll still love you. And when we see each other again, I’ll show you. Okay? We’re gonna do this. This won’t be what breaks us.”

“Gardener,” Jack murmured, settling into Mark's lap. “Arrangements for Chica’s travel. Plane tickets. Shipping things to your place. Packing.” The list wasn't very long, but everything would take time. Jack sighed and closed his eyes. “Kissing you every night and every morning.”

“And you need to finish up your videos.” A pause. “...me too. A few, at least. I can be more productive once I’m settled there.” Mark sought out Jack’s lips again and dragged out a smile for him. “Between kisses, though. Hope you’re ready for more than just one every night and every morning.” Mark wiggled his fingers until they could interlock with Jack’s and squeezed as if to cement his words.

“Your community understands when you take time off,” Jack said, then paused. “Mine would too, but _I_ wouldn't. Sometimes, I really suck.” But taking time to record now would mean he could have the entire week in L.A.with Mark, without needing to worry about his channel. Jack kissed Mark's shoulder and squeezed back. “Hope we're gonna do more than just kiss…”

“Well, if we get all the important stuff done and play our cards right… you could end up sucking in another way….” Mark wiggled his eyebrows a little.

Jack snickered and lifted himself up to suck Mark's earlobe into his mouth, toying with it with his tongue before letting it go. “Mm, you _tease_ me…”

Mark’s whimper was a bit stifled as he dug teeth into his lip. He huffed out a breath that had been lodged in his throat and sent Jack the hungry look he _knew_ Jack was weak for. “Says the tease. Think we have time to go inside and… unwind a bit? Before we get started on our adulting responsibilities?”

“Just imagine how productive we're gonna be when we're _not_ able to screw each other's brains out…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	51. Day 239: Trans-Atlantic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, this day would come. They both knew it.

The weeks seemed to fly by. Once they had a date, it was as if someone pushed the fast forward button. Mark and Jack did their best to squeeze in as much time together as possible while completing their laundry list of “Mark Goes Back to the States” tasks. They spent more time than ever at home, trying to make every minute count.

Gradually, they checked off metaphorical boxes. Mark found Jack a gardener who was actually from their neighborhood and happily married. They messaged Tom and sorted out all the details for flying Chica back to the U.S. as safely and comfortably as possible. Jack completed his stockpile of videos with time to spare thanks to help from Robin and even Mark managed to set up a few for his own queue. They organized the shipment of Mark’s personal items with Tyler, who would be receiving them shortly before the two men arrived. Mark even set up a meeting with Dr. Agon’s daughter, Emma, a huge fan of his, about a week before they were set to leave. He’d gladly signed her giant pink mustache pillow and taken several selfies. At one point, she’d gone in for a hug, and though it took some minutes of maneuvering Mark was able to loosely accept. Jack had been there to help settle his nerves after all was said and done.

They also kissed. Among other things. Yet there were more kisses than either of them could keep count of. No real sucking, but Jack was okay with that. He had Mark in his bed every night still. He could survive.

The airport was crowded and loud. Mark barely got out of their cab before he started falling toward a panic attack. Jack took his hand and tipped the driver to stay longer while Mark sat sideways out the back door and Jack talked him back to calm. There was no releasing Mark’s hand. Not for this. Mark stayed pressed up close against Jack’s side, hats tugged low over their bright hair, and Jack did all of the talking to get them through check-in. Mark managed to survive by staring at his feet or at Jack’s face the entire time.

Then came security. Jack had to let go of Mark’s hand to go through the detector first, then waited anxiously on the other side. Mark looked about ready to pass out as he shuffled through. Mercifully, it remained silent. Mark immediately pressed up against Jack’s side as soon as he was through. Jack squeezed Mark’s hand and murmured soothing words for his ears alone. It took some minutes of people maneuvering around them but Mark eventually was able to move again.

Their gate was full. Overcrowded, really. L.A. was a popular destination. Jack pulled Mark around the corner so they could linger by the wall instead. They’d stopped by one of the little convenience stores set up after the security checkpoint for provisions and he passed Mark a water bottle. Gentle “you okay's” were met with timid “I’ll be okay’s” and “I’m fine’s”. No one had recognized them. They were able to stand in relative peace until called to board the plane. Over one hurdle; on to the next.

The plane was worse. Jack ended up half-tugging Mark down the aisle to their seats as Mark stared at the windows and tried not to shake. It had been a struggle, initially, to hypothesize whether the window or the aisle seat would be better for Mark. The aisle provided an escape route to comfort his anxiety, but also left him exposed to more people. The window seat tucked him away where it was “safer” and gave him a view out, but trapped him. In the end, they went with the window seat so Jack could firmly place himself between Mark and everyone else.

Once they were settled, Jack tugged the airplane blanket out of its plastic bag and covered them both with it. Beneath the concealing blanket, Jack could hook his leg around Mark’s and lace their fingers together, giving Mark’s hand a squeeze and Mark himself a smile. Mark returned the squeeze and bumped their shoulders together, letting Jack talk to him to distract him until they were taking off.

Take-off was Jack’s favorite part of flying, despite his fear of heights. There was something _magical_ about the plane going faster and faster, rocketing down the runway until the shadow dropped away and they were airborne. The plane’s floor was secure beneath their feet, and Jack had to lean across Mark, bouncing excitedly to watch out the window. He grinned sheepishly as the plane punched through the first clouds, settling back into his seat, and giggled. Mark giggled as well, just on principal, and then they were both dissolving into stupid chuckles and snorts. The last person taking up their aisle seat had shot them concerned glances but thankfully didn’t bother them.

Just laughing helped Mark relax, which Jack was grateful for. They’d opted for a nonstop flight, which was eleven _hours_ of not doing much, but at least it minimized the airport exposure. Jack and Mark watched movies on their seat screens, hands laced together, and eventually Mark fell asleep on Jack’s shoulder. Jack tried to stay awake, but looking after Mark on the flight was exhausting. He summoned a stewardess and asked to make sure they weren’t disturbed before tugging his hat low over his face and napping himself.

When they woke up again, the Atlantic was behind them and they were crossing the U.S. Another movie ate up much of the time, and they listened to music and talked softly to each other, peering out the window and picking out shapes in the clouds. When they got up to use the bathroom, they both went at the same time. Jack lingered outside the door for Mark, and Mark waited for Jack. Beyond a few odd looks, the flight itself went smoothly.

When they landed in L.A., they waited for the other passengers to depart before getting out of their seats. The gate was mostly empty by the time they made it off the plane, and Mark’s relief was palpable. The airport itself was still crowded, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

Except this was America, and security this time included the immigration checkpoint. Jack had to go the non-citizen route, while Mark would be fast-tracked through the returning American line. They had to separate. Mark’s anxiety immediately spiked, his grip on Jack tightening.

Jack immediately set down his carry-on and turned to take Mark’s hands. He brought Mark’s focus back with a squeeze and his voice. Then he kept it there while people flowed around them into one line or the other. “Mark. Mark, you need to get Chica, remember? She needs you. And your line’s shorter anyway.” Mark was looking at Jack, but his breathing was still a little sporadic. Jack threw caution to the wind and pulled his boyfriend into a tight hug. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ll be right behind you. Get Chica and go meet Tyler. He texted you, remember? He’s here. He’s waiting for you out there. You can text him back if you need to- we’re in the States. Your shit works now.”

Mark clung to Jack, syncing up their breaths in an effort to calm down. Jack gave Mark a squeeze that he managed to return, and then they separated. Mark held Jack’s hand up until the very last moment, and Jack could feel Mark’s eyes on him until he was out of sight. He took a deep breath, told himself Mark would be okay, and got into line.

Immigiration was never fun, but it wasn’t _hard_. Jack had his passport out and ready to be examined, resisting the urge to mutter _DETAINED!_ under his breath as the official examined it.

“Business or pleasure?”

“Pleasure.”

“How long you staying?”

“Bit over a week. Eight days.”

“Hmm.” The man studied Jack’s passport, then squinted at Jack. “Your hair’s different.”

Jack nodded. “I dyed it. For depression awareness.” _Not a douche, not a douche, I’m not a douche…_

“Not cause you’re Irish? All leprechauny?”

“I… never even thought of that!” Jack quipped. Not like he hadn’t heard this _every time_ he entered or left America. “Green’s just my favorite color.” It wasn’t. “Maybe because I _am_ Irish!”

Jack didn’t even get a smile out of the man, but he did get his passport stamped and passed through to luggage. Mark was already gone. Jack found his bag easily enough and dragged it off the carousel, then went in search of his boyfriend. He tugged his hat firmer down over his green hair, rocking up on his toes to try to see over the crowd of arrivals. Mark was short and wearing a hat, but Tyler was taller and… ah! Curly hobbit hair! Tyler! Jack pushed his way over to the American, relieved to see Mark standing on his own, not panicking, not crying.

“ _There_ you are. Jesus. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a short guy in a crowd?” Jack came up to the pair, rolling his bag behind him. “Everything go okay, Mark?” He gave Tyler a little smile and nod, but his attention was on Mark first. When they’d separated, Mark had looked about ready to crumple into a tiny ball. Only the promise of Chica and Tyler had kept him going. He didn’t look nearly so anxious anymore, though he was still uncomfortable.

Mark immediately relaxed as his eyes fell on Jack, surging forward to grip Jack’s hand and squeeze tight. “I’m all right. It got a little tense there for a minute but Tyler’s been a big help. Did you get through immigration okay?”

“Yeah, got the usual quips about the green hair and leprechauns.” Jack rolled his eyes. “You’d think they’d come up with new material by now, but noooo.” He squeezed Mark’s hand and smiled at him, glad everything was all right. Mark was staring longingly at him. It was all Jack could do not to kiss him.

“Pft. Lame. Those are _my_ jokes.” Mark let there be a pointed pause. “...you saying I need some new material, Jackaboy? I’m insulted.” He gave a little huff, but his smile didn’t diminish. If anything, it got bigger.

Tyler was watching Mark and Jack with a squinty-eyed look of slowly dawning realization. “ _Ohhhhh…_ ”

Pink flooded up to the tips of Mark’s ears as his head whipped around to the other American. “Huh? What? What. Don’t look at us like that. Stoppit. _Don’t._ Don’t you dare start, Tyler.”

“I said nothing!” Tyler protested, holding up his hands. “Nothing!”

“Goober,” Jack murmured under his breath, before he stepped closer to Tyler and held out his hand. “Hi, Tyler. Jack. It’s awesome to finally meet you in person!”

“Likewise! Don’t let him kill me…” Tyler shook Jack’s hand, easing around to put Jack in-between himself and Mark. “But...how about you two lovebirds come out to the car? Chica can ride up front with me, and you two can snuuuuuuggle in the backseat...but you’re cleaning up any mess you make!”

Mark squinted at Tyler. His face was just a few shades pinker than his old red hair, mouth and brows screwed up with embarassed exasperation. “Jack, step aside, I’m gonna kill him.”

“Or,” Jack said, holding up a hand to Mark, “ _or_ we could follow his suggestion and get our revenge from the backseat of the car? Outside of the airport? And the crowd? All these _people_?” Tyler and Jack had struck up a tentative friendship over Skype messages while Mark was in the room and Tyler was giving updates on Chica. Afterwards, Jack’s communication with Tyler had tapered off to more passing ‘hey’s whenever Tyler was talking to Mark and Jack wandered into the room. Tyler had been Mark’s friend since they were little boys, and he wasn’t like Wade, who was friends with Jack on his own. Jack was a little awkward around him still. He was _Mark’s_ friend.

However, the fact remained that Tyler’s car was a hell of a lot more private than this airport, and at the very least, Jack could give Mark a hug in the backseat. Tyler had not condemned them despite seeing right through Mark’s oh-so-clever hiding of their relationship (and really, Jack would have facepalmed if he weren’t trying to keep it secret himself). The flight had been long, but Mark had gotten through it, and he deserved a reward of some physical affection. Jack just hoped he was smart enough to catch all of the hints Jack was flinging bodily at his face. “Let’s _go…_ ”

Mark continued staring down Tyler with his usual stubbornness for perhaps half a minute longer before grudgingly leaning back and taking a deep breath. Some of the color drained away from his face. “Okay.” He smiled at Jack; squeezing his hand. “Okay, let’s get out of here. Before anymore people flood in…”

Thank god his boyfriend had the occasional brains as well as beauty. Jack smiled and squeezed Mark’s hand one more time before pulling away to load his bag onto the cart beside Mark’s. Tyler went around to the back to push so Mark and Jack could walk alongside each other. “If we’re quick enough, maybe we won’t even be recognized…”

It would seem that the fates were smiling on them today, because they were able to get Chica safely into the front seat and climbed into the back without anyone disturbing them (except one six-year-old who got all excited about the puppy and ended up dragged away by her mother begging for a doggy of her own). Jack laced his fingers through Mark’s, but he still waited until Tyler was on the highway before he tugged his hat off and reached over to pull Mark into a hug. “Hey. You did good. You made it. We’re here.”

“Ohmygod…” Mark groaned as he slumped automatically down into Jack’s arms. His arms came around Jack’s middle to press fingers into his back; thumbing at the hidden MF. Mark’s face found Jack’s shoulder and he sighed. “I thought I was gonna lose it for a minute there, Jack. I couldn’t have done this without you. I would’ve been _sooooo_ ** _fucked._** ”

Jack’s fingers slipped beneath the hem of Mark’s shirt to press against the SM in return, and he turned his head to kiss Mark’s temple, glancing briefly at Tyler. Tyler didn’t seem to be paying too much attention to the backseat (which probably meant he was listening carefully for every word they said). “You might have felt like that, but you _didn’t_ lose it, Mark. You held it together, and now it’s over. We’re safe on the ground again. And we’ll be home soon. To your home.”

“I kinda wish we were going to _our_ home…” Mark muffled his words with Jack’s shirt before nuzzling further into Jack’s shoulder. He breathed deep and dug his fingertips in a bit more. “I miss it already.”

“Yeah, but… _sun_ ,” Jack said, trying to point out the perks of L.A. “Pool! Hundreds of channels! _Better Netflix options!_ ”

In the front seat, Tyler was failing not to snicker. “So, what, do you guys just chill in Ireland? Without the Netflix?”

Jack blew Tyler a raspberry. “For that, I’m gonna makeout in your backseat. Pucker up, Markifart…”

“C’mon Jack, let’s chill without the Netflix right here, right now.” Mark stuck his tongue out at Tyler in the rearview mirror then turned to Jack with it still extended; giving it a lewd wiggle. “Nyeeeeh sloppy makeouts are a go; Septiplier away!”

Jack was cracking up, but he caught Mark by the face and leaned in to give him the sloppiest kiss he could manage, catching that teasing tongue between his lips and trying not to just drool all over his front. “ _Ass,_ ” he whispered fondly against Mark’s mouth, sliding his hands down so he could fold them around Mark again and tug him as close as the seatbelts would allow. He’d wanted to kiss Mark all day too, and if Tyler wasn’t complaining…

“Can’t; seat belts’re in the way. _Later._ ” Mark mumbled back around lips and tongue with a slight waggle of his eyebrows. He tilted his head to better position their lips and managed to get his tongue _inside_ Jack’s mouth.

Jack gave a little shiver and reached down to grope at Mark’s ass in return, stretching across the distance between them for maximum cheek-grip. _Later, later,_ he promised with his mouth and tongue, trying to actually _stifle_ his noises for once. Tyler was in the driver’s seat, hearing everything (and mercifully remaining quiet).

Kissing Mark, Jack decided, was _the_ best way to unwind from an eleven-hour flight.

Mark forced himself to pull back for air and a couple of whispered words. “Jack. _Jack,_ we can’t. Not now. Just... you good? I’m good. I’m good; we’ll pick it up later okay? Okay…”

“Okay,” Jack agreed quietly, drawing away from Mark. He slid their hands back together, interlacing their fingers again, and sagged back in the seat to take a few deep breaths. “Sorry, Tyler. Great first impression, huh?”

“Nah, s’all cool, bro,” Tyler said, waving a hand dismissively. “I was telling Mark just before you showed up that Ireland was good for him, but I realize I was a little off. It’s just one Irish, huh? So… how’d it happen?”

Mark snorted, then wheezed out a laugh as he swiped some stray drool from his chin with a thumb. “You might wanna slow down a bit, Tyler. This story is _long…_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	52. Night 239: Separate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack doesn't think they should sleep together anymore.

Mark and Jack had taken turns explaining the tumultuous start of their relationship to Tyler; with certain parts omitted, of course. Tyler, bemused, had tossed a few corny quips their way until they reached the house. Mark was able to get his revenge by surprising his friend with an abruptly released Chica, whom had immediately tackled the poor man to the ground in her excitement. Tyler conceded to giving the two “lovebirds” a break.

Together with help from Tyler, they managed to move all the luggage and Chica’s crate into the house. Tyler had taken good care of the place while Mark was stuck in Ireland. The pool needed to be cleaned, the yard was weedy, and the dust was heavy on the furniture, but otherwise, Mark’s house was perfectly ready to be lived in again. Chica roamed around with a happy ease.

Once Mark and Jack were settled, Tyler passed on their invitation to join them for a dinner of pizza. (They still had to get groceries.) He claimed he wanted to give the “newlyweds” some space for the evening and had fled the vicinity before he could be attacked by a rain of pillows.

Mark was struggling. That much was obvious to Jack as he checked out the state of the house with his boyfriend, their arms linked together, fingers intertwined. Mark was quiet and moody and clearly not happy, not even back in his own recording room. Jack tried to distract Mark after dinner, pulling him into a steamy makeout session on Mark’s couch to christen this room, but his heart wasn’t in it. There was still one more crushing piece of news to deliver.

Their legs were pressed together, arms wrapped around each other. Both of them had a hand up the other’s shirt, claiming their initials. It was almost normal in an unfamiliar place. Jack sighed, his head lolling to the side as Mark devoured his neck. “Mark. _Maaaark…_ ”

Jack bit his lip and then reached up to get his free hand beneath Mark’s mouth, blocking him from another biting kiss. “Mark, I… um… I’ve been thinking…”

Mark leaned away from Jack in a heartbeat. Just as Jack would stop immediately when Mark asked him to, Mark always did the same for Jack. Panting lightly, Mark looked down at Jack very much like a confused, slightly desperate puppy. “Wha.. what's up? Jack? You've been sort’ve.. distant; all night. Is it the jet lag? If you're not feeling up to this, w-we can stop….”

“Mark…” Jack reached up to stroke his fingers asking Mark's face, pecking his lips to reassure him that Jack wasn't regretting their intimacy. “I want to continue, I _do_ , but first I just…”

Mark leaned into Jack’s touch, bringing up a hand of his own to slide over pale fingers. _Just say it._ Jack closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his expression was sad. “I don't think we should share a bed tonight. Or...or at all. While I'm here. I can stay in the guest room, and we can still...we can still do _this_! We just...shouldn't sleep together.”

Mark physically slumped over Jack. “Jack… Jack, I get it, I do. But do we have to start tonight? I don't… I'm not familiar with this house anymore. I'm uncomfortable. I don't think… it'd be the best idea, to just take away the only familiarity- the only _normal_ \- I have right now. I..” Mark took a deep breath. “...I'm scared. Okay?”

Mark _was_ scared. That much was obvious. “Okay,” Jack agreed. “Okay.” It was easy to cave to Mark's request, especially when Jack wanted to do it himself.

Jack leaned in to kiss Mark again (and then a couple more times for good measure). “Tonight,” he said. “We can sleep together tonight, but then…” He sighed his head, hiding his face in Mark's neck and hugging him tight. “Mark, we need to... _I_ need to know that you can do this. That you'll be okay on your own. Without me. Without nightmares.”

Mark returned the embrace and pressed a kiss to Jack’s hair, holding him close. “...I know. I know it's important, Jack… I'm sorry. It's just going to be hard, but I'll try. I will. Tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night is tomorrow,” Jack decided. He pulled away from Mark's neck to look him in the eye. “If this is gonna be the last night we spend together for a while, I want to enjoy it, dammit!”

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that they were being ripped apart when all Jack wanted to do was curl in close. Mark _needed_ to sleep on his own, though. He needed to _live_ on his own. They had been growing codependent in Ireland, and it wasn't a healthy relationship for either of them. Jack knew that. (Even if he hadn't, his therapist made sure he did.)

“If this works,” Jack promised, leaning forward to brush their noses together, “then maybe...maybe we can talk about actually living together. Properly, not just because of health reasons. Okay?”

Mark’s smile finally returned. “Me too.” He gave Jack an Eskimo kiss. “You mean it? Like, actually living together here or there? Living together permanently?”

“I know I said no before, but that was before…” Jack sighed and dropped his head into Mark's shoulder. “I don't want to live without you forever. I don't want to just see you a couple times a year. But I don't know how to make it work. So. _So_. If you can do this, if you can live on your own without me...I'll look into seeing how you can live _with_ me. No promises. Immigration's a bitch. But I'll try.” Jack tightened his arms around Mark, sweeping a finger over the curving S in Mark's back. “I'll do my best…”

Mark cradled Jack in his arms and pressed giddy kisses to the side of his head. He buried his smile into Jack’s hair. “I'll help. I'll do whatever I can from my end. I'll help you research. Anything I can do to make it easier. Even if it means me moving out there to be with you, I don't care. I'll do it.” His own fingers found their way to where he knew an M still rested against Jack’s skin. He pressed in with fingertips and kissed at the shell of Jack’s ear. “I'll do it. If it means getting to be with you all the time again, I'll work through it. I will.” Mark gave Jack’s ear a teasing little nibble. “‘Cause I love you.”

“You are _not_ giving up all Los Angeles has to offer a YouTuber to move to Ireland,” Jack scolded even as he giggled at Mark's sudden burst of affection. “I won't let you. Not even for me. Or the tatertots.”

“Not even for our little tuber babies?” Mark gasped with mock-horror. He was still smiling when Jack pulled him into a kiss.

“You finish getting your life back, and let me worry about logistics, okay? We both know I'm the better planner anyway. We'll sleep on it and figure things out. We _will._ ”

After they broke apart, Mark looked down at Jack over the dark rims of his low-sitting glasses. His fingers rubbed circles over the tattoo. “Okay. Okay, you're right. I trust your judgment better than mine, anyway. I know you can figure it out. But if there's anything I can do, don't hesitate. I _want_ this. I want _you._ More than anything else in the world.”

Jack looked at Mark like he was trying to memorize him, solemn and steady, but then he smiled faintly and dipped his head. “I'll let you know,” he promised.

 _If_ ** _you_** _still want this…_ For the past few months, Jack had been Mark’s _entire_ life. He didn't doubt that Mark loved him, but there was a niggling worry that said it was only because of the situation. That Mark would want anyone _but_ Jack once the options were available. He knew Mark would dismiss his concerns immediately, so he didn’t voice them. Mark would heal and stop being dependent on Jack, and then...then they'd see. Then Jack would _know._

“So...I dunno about you, but I'm pretty worn out,” he said. “How about we get tucked in for the night?” He looked up at Mark and found a smirk. “We could christen your bed…”

Mark gave an amused snort and nuzzled affectionately at Jack’s hair again. “Jack, why do I get the feeling you're gonna get us ‘christening’ every room and piece of usable furniture in the house? Then again…” Tightening his grip around Jack’s waist, Mark stood and heaved Jack up. “We should get to work on the walls, too. Maybe even try the pool if we can get all the leaves out of it….”

Jack ‘eeped,’ _always_ taken by surprise whenever Mark showed off his strength. He wrapped himself around Mark and failed to scowl. Being in Mark’s arms was definitely his favorite position thus far. “You christened every room and useable furniture in the other house!” he protested. “Turnabout is fair play!” But christening the _walls_? Jack went pink just from the thought. He burrowed into Mark’s neck and tried not to wiggle too much.

“Jack you're the one that got us christening _half_ that stuff so does it even _count_ as ‘turnabout’?” Mark pointed out with a chuckle. One arm stayed locked firmly around Jack’s waist while the other dropped down to cup at his ass.

“I'll close my eyes,” Jack decided. “You can decide what gets first christening.”

Humming contently with a smile still playing at his lips, Mark carried Jack through the house. In the end, it _was_ a wall, and they both slipped into Mark’s bed after; sated and spent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	53. Night 240: Separate Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack really doesn’t think they should sleep together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow is my 30th birthday, so... DOUBLE UPDATE! Yay! Look for another chapter of Gold (and maybe even one more of Clay) this afternoon!

The second day passed much like the first. Jack bought Mark an electric kettle and two dozen random mugs from the most eclectic stores he could find ( _It’s not genuine if all your mugs are matchy-matchy!_ ) and spent an embarrassing amount of time teaching Mark how to make tea properly (and writing instructions for Tyler, just in case). He helped Mark set up meetings with his physician and the therapist he went to after Daniel’s death, and he even let Mark talk him into manual labor to help clear the pool. After another long day, Jack extracted himself from Mark’s arms and went into the guest room for the night. Alone.

The bed was too big. (It was the same size as his.) The room felt stale and unaired. (The window was open.) Jack was too cold. (He was in just his boxers from the heat.) It was too quiet. (The ceiling fan was on.)

Jack tossed and turned in the unfamiliar bed, curling around a pillow and wishing it were Mark. Mark wasn't that far away. Jack _could_ just get up and knock on his door, climb into his bed and…

No. No, Mark needed to learn how to do this on his own. So did Jack. He closed his eyes tight and took a deep breath. _Sleep.  Sleep.  Sleeeeeep…_

Jack heard the door click open and held his breath. The intruder was quiet but not stealthy enough. Jack could hear him slip across the room and climb into bed with him, familiar hands sliding over his sides and immediately draining the tension from him like a punctured balloon. Jack sighed. “I _should_ send you back to your own bed,” he mumbled as Mark pressed an apology into his skin.

He didn't. Jack was weak too. He covered Mark’s arms with his own and pressed back against Mark’s chest. _Now_ he was comfortable. “G’night, love.”

“G’night….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	54. Night 241: Separate - Third Time's the Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack means it this time.

The third night, Jack locked his bedroom door, stuck a chair under the knob, and tried not to cry into his pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :P We always had this planned as a double update because it was so short! The dates were just a coincidence!
> 
> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	55. Night 247: Ireland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's return is lonely.

Mark managed to be thwarted by the locked door, and Jack eventually succumbed to exhaustion. He repeated the defense every night for the rest of his time in L.A., falling asleep late and waking up late. Mark usually had coffee on by the time Jack dragged himself out of bed, which Jack appreciated (and had missed. It was the one perk sleeping with Mark _didn’t_ include.)

Mornings were quiet and tense. It felt awkward cuddling with Mark after literally locking him out at night, so Jack sat in his own chair with his mug, watching Mark and asking how he’d slept. If he’d slept at all. He always seemed stiff in the morning, but he did confess to getting at least a few hours of sleep every night, even without Jack in his bed.

A few hours were better than none, and Jack didn’t hear Mark waking him with screams, so he figured Mark’s nightly terrors were at least a thing of the past. He might still get the occasional nightmare, but it wasn’t every night. _Jack’s_ weren’t every night.

Before leaving L.A., Jack made Mark _promise_ to confide in someone--Tyler or Matthias or Danny--if his nightmares actually did return. To find someone who could be close at hand to bring him out of it in the event that they cropped up multiple nights in a row.

(He also made sure Mark had good memories of _every_ room in the house [and the pool].)

The departure had been worse than Jack had anticipated, and he had taken the precautions of asking Tyler to give them a ride even though Mark was fully capable of driving them himself. Jack knew Mark wouldn’t be in a good condition to drive himself home safely after. They still had to get the bulk of their good-byes out at Mark’s house, over an hour away from the airport. Jack had kissed Mark until his mouth hurt, clinging to his boyfriend as if Mark would be snatched away again. Mark had not been any calmer. In the car, Jack didn’t cry. He felt plugged up, like he had when Mark was in that room. Like the tears were _there_ , but they wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ fall. He had wrapped his arms around Mark, one hand pressed firmly against the scars on his back, while Mark cried into his shoulder, his own hand claiming Jack’s tattoo.

At the airport proper, Mark had to wipe his face and could only give Jack a manly hug before security. They were in public. There were already a couple people watching them, recognizing them. Jack got snagged for a selfie as soon as he passed the TSA agents. He smiled. He didn’t cry.

When he stepped into the little Irish cottage he’d come to call home, the door banged shut behind him, sealing him off from Mark with a dull finality. There was no sound of video games from the living room, no clatter of Chica’s nails on the hardwood. Jack dragged his suitcase to the bedroom, pointedly not looking at how empty the spare room was without Mark’s things. He let it drop inside the room and fell face-first onto their bed.

It smelled like Mark. This was his side. Jack’s face crumpled, and the tears finally came. He curled up on himself, sobbing, his arms wrapped tight around his waist as if his own fingers could make up for Mark’s on his back, Mark’s strong hold keeping him together. Jack choked and cried, tugging the duvet loose to wrap up in it, to pull Mark’s scent around him and pretend that this was okay.

It wasn’t okay. Mark was gone. Jack couldn't get his insides to feel normal. His lungs ached with every breath, and his stomach was twisted up in knots. His heart seemed to stutter and jump within his chest. There was a bone-deep _ache_ inside him. Just yesterday, Mark had been pressed against his side, solid and warm in his arms. If only Jack had decided against the flight. If only one of them had clung to the other, and they hadn't gone to separate homes, alone. If only. _If only._

If only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	56. Night 277: Skype is for Soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack misses Mark. So much.

“...and it’s so cooooold!” Jack wailed into the camera, flopping around the couch in a blanket burrito. Mark’s laughing face filled his iPad screen, and for a short time, Jack could forget how empty his house was. “Ugh, Mark, Ireland _sucks_. Why do you like it so much?”

Mark had been home for a month now. A month of an empty bed and quiet halls. A month of the quiet but pleasant enough gardener tending to _Mark’s_ garden, sometimes making Jack jump and think he caught a glimpse of his boyfriend outside the window. A month of monotony broken only by the occasional interesting new game or sketch idea. Not that Jack had many of those. Mark was definitely more of the original content sort of creator than Jack was.

They Skyped nearly every night (and sometimes during the day), filling each other in on the events (or lack thereof) in their lives. Mostly, Jack only had the weather to talk about. He barely left the house _before_ Mark came to live with him. There was no reason for that to change after.

A surprising lack of time in their calls was spent sexually. Almost none, actually. Jack was more likely to get Mark to hug himself and pretend it was Jack than to get himself off. The camera dissuaded Mark, and Jack felt awkward initiating something like that. They sexted occasionally, but mostly, their relationship had fizzled to _I love you_ and _I miss you_.

Jack tried not to say the latter too much. He knew Mark was having a hard enough time without him.

Mark managed to get his laughter under control and shook his head. Contrary to Jack, he was actually _outside._ He was shirtless and lounging by his pool in the privacy of his backyard, enjoying the warmth of California. Chica was in agreement from her sprawled out position nearby; kicking lightly in her sleep. “Well you gotta remember I wasn’t really there for the cold months, Jack. So it was pleasant enough for me. If you wanna know, though, it’s like almost seventy and sunny here. Missing you~”

Jack pulled a face and flipped Mark off. Stupid American and his stupid amazing weather. It was _October_ , for fuck’s sake! October was supposed to be cold and crisp and pumpkin spice.

Well. Two outta three ain’t bad, right? Ireland was cold and damp, but the pumpkin spice was _everywhere_. Jack was in flavor heaven.

Mark just laughed at him. “So… I’ve been thinking lately….”

“Oh? Thinking, eh? Take two paracetamol and call Dr. Schneeplestein in the morning.” Jack finally managed to find a comfortable position on the couch where he could see Mark and still be contained in his blanket and still have a hand free to make the necessary gestures communication required. “And maybe try not to do that.”

Mark rolled his eyes and happily gave Jack his flipped bird back. “Oh ha _ha._ That was so damn funny Jack. Glad to see you’re finally working on your comedy.” He stuck out his tongue in a childish gesture.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Mark started again. “Seriously, though. I was thinking that… that maybe I should move. Just… this house isn’t right for me anymore. I mean, I was always _okay_ with it before, I guess. But… after living over there with you, in the cabin, for so long I realized that… I don’t… really like it here? I mean, it’s _nice._ But it’s not.. it’s not what _I want._ Y’know? It’s not like I want a duplicate of our cabin. I just think that… some distance, from the city. It’d be nice.”

Jack giggled at the finger Mark gave him, but he settled down when Mark insisted his thoughts were serious. Jokes were fun, but if Mark wanted a serious talk, Jack could provide.

“You wanna move?” he asked. “Like, how far? Back to Cincinnati? Don’t tell me you’re gonna become a hermit in the woods somewhere. Especially not in California. Those woods seem to be spontaneously combusting every other month.”

“No! Not back to Cincinnati, oh my god. I’m not moving out of state unless it’s back to _you,_ Jack. I’m _not_ gonna become a hermit, either. Fuck. I just.. I can’t stand being here, Jack. The city. I can’t. It’s too noisy, it’s too crowded and I _can’t even see the stars here,_ Jack. That’s a crime all on its own. I…”

Mark swallowed. Rubbed at the back of his neck; through his hair; down over his face. “...I miss the nature. I miss our garden. I miss being able to hear the river all the time and how we’d wake up to see fucking ducks quacking around in our backyard. I miss having a little safe space outside to just unwind when the rest of the world’s got me so stressed out _I_ feel like spontaneously combusting. I need space. I need a house I can actually feel comfortable in and even Chica misses having a big yard to run around in. I wouldn’t be going far. I _know_ that’s a bad idea. I’d just… I’d just be getting out. Of _this._ ” Mark gestured around him.

“Wanting more nature’s not a bad thing,” Jack said. “That’s one of the reasons why I love it here so much, despite my complaints.” And one of the reasons why Jack had made no progress on actually moving to L.A. He loved Mark. He hated the city. It _only_ had Mark going for it, really (and some connections and opportunities to boost his career, but that was entirely beside the point).

Well, that and the immigration _nightmare_ it would be to move to America, even from a lily-white Catholic country like Ireland. Jack had been doing his research. It did not look good. 

“One of the reasons I loved it there….” Mark mumbled under his breath.

“I think that’d be nice. You’re not sharing your house with two guys who insist they aren’t gay for each other anymore. You don’t need as much space, so you can definitely afford more yard.” 

Mark’s face eased into a smile and he even chuckled a little at the joke. “Tyler’s offered to try moving in once or twice, but I turned him down. I know it’s just because he’s worried. He knows I’m lonely.”

Jack cocked his head to the side, just watching Mark’s muscles move as he gestured. “Have you been just thinking about this, or have you actually started looking?”

Reaching back to rub at his neck in slight embarrassment, Mark’s fingers tapped lightly at the keys of his laptop. “Well.. I.. might’ve started looking around nearby forest-y areas for any open listings…. A few places have caught my eye but I haven’t done any serious research yet. Buying _this_ house was a big deal, and that was with two other people helping me out. It’s gonna take time, I know, but.. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I really think it’d help.”

“Your comfort is of utmost importance,” Jack said. He might be five thousand miles away, but it was still true. “If you think it’ll help, if it’s what you want, and if it doesn’t totally kill your bank account, because Jesus, how expensive _are_ houses in California?, then go for it!”

He was five thousand miles away, but Jack would still root for Mark and cheer on all of his successes. Every accomplishment was worthy of praise. “You’ll have to send me pictures, and give me a video tour when you move, so I can see it for myself. And then eventually, when I get back over there, we’ll have to rechristen everything.”

Mark snorted and lifted his hands so Jack could see him count off on his fingers. “Okay, well. I think it’ll help. It’s what I want. And Jack, do you realize how little of my account I’ve touched over the past year? Like yeah, medical expenses and some travel crap but otherwise… I’ve really just been collecting ad revenue. It’s ridiculous. A small house outside of downtown? If I make it a slight fixer-upper I’ll be able to handle the mortgage no problem. So… yeah. If I’ve got your blessing I guess I’m gonna go for it. Eventually.”

Mark was beaming. “You’ll be the first person I message when I find the one, _promise._ Also, shut up. Don’t tempt me. Do you have any idea how hard it is to walk around this house and remember all the places we wrecked our underwear? The places I wrecked _your_ underwear? I’m pretty sure we made a dent in one wall with your ass, Jack.”

“Oh. Oh, right. _Your_ house is hard to walk around without getting horny.” Jack looked around pointedly and then back at Mark. “I can count seven different places without _getting up_. And that’s just places, not even times!” This couch, for example, took quite a loving beating. Jack _still_ had trouble sitting on it without thinking he could feel Mark leaning against his side.

“Okay, okay. So our libido’s either something to be feared or admired. I get it. Being apart this long’s probably just gonna make it worse once we’re back together again.”

“I miss you.” Jack tried not to say it, but sometimes it slipped out anyway. 

“Jack…”

Jack settled his head on his arm, pouting slightly at the camera. His free hand traced Mark’s face on the screen. It wasn’t the same. “Sorry. I just… you look really happy right now, and I miss being able to kiss that smile.”

Mark pulled his knees up to drag the laptop screen closer. His mouth turned down at the corners with the hint of a frown. “...I miss you too. It’s okay. You don’t.. you don’t have to apologize. We’re supposed to be able to tell each other how we feel. Communication, remember? I… _fuck,_ Jack, I really want to kiss you right now…. I want to kiss you until _you_ smile again. And I wanna hold you. Keep you warm.” Mark hunkered down into his pool chair with a growing pout. “...when’s the next time you said we could meet up, again?”

“PAX isn’t until March.” Jack hunkered further into his arm so just his blue eyes and green floof were sticking up. His voice was slightly muffled.

(PAX South was in January again, but there was no way Jack was _ever_ returning there. Not after last time.)

“That’s so far away…” Jack frowned, then squirmed around to dig out his phone. His head had to come up from his arm, but he was searching quickly. “Maybe there’s a sooner convention? If I visit without an excuse, our communities are just gonna explode…”

_conventions california_

_conventions las vegas_

_gaming conventions november_

“So let’em explode, it’s not like they don’t do that enough on their own….” Mark muttered petulantly. He huffed and sulked a bit more dramatically.

“Blizzcon?” Jack asked, looking back at the camera. “Mark, Blizzcon’s in _Anaheim_! November 4… about two weeks away? Fuck, I dunno if I can get tickets, but if I focus, I can prep about a week of videos by then… I can go for a day and then come spend the rest of the time with you?”

Blizzcon wasn’t something Jacksepticeye would be a panelist at, but he could go as a guest, surely. He wasn’t the biggest WoW fan, but his obsession with Overwatch hadn’t died in the least. It was a flimsy excuse, but it was still a plausible one. “Maybe I can reach out to Blizzard, see if they’ll pull some strings…”

“Blizzcon…? Oh yeah, I think I’ve heard of that. The big Blizzard sponsored one. I think I’ve tried going once or twice but something always came up. I mean, y’know I used to be obsessed with WoW but I haven’t played it in ages. Most of my time and effort went towards the bigger cons like PAX. It’s only two weeks away. Are you sure we could manage to get tickets…?” Mark scratched at his stubble with doubt in his brown eyes. “I used to have good connections with Blizzard but I haven’t really emailed them in like… a year. At least.”

“I _will_ get tickets… we?” Jack cocked his head to the side. “Did you want to come too? I mean, it’s close, but…”

But it was a convention. Crowds. _Insane_ crowds. Probably a ton of recognition, because it was going to be full of video game fans. And staying in a hotel room. And yes, Jack would be there, but so would _thousands_ of potential triggers, and…

“If you want to come, I’m absolutely not going to stop you!” Jack assured Mark quickly. “I just… thought it might be overwhelming. But it would also give us another day together…” And as they had both unfortunately learned, even one day together was a rare opportunity.

“Uh, I mean…” Mark stared down at Jack’s face on his laptop screen. “Jack. I want to try- for us. For _me._ I… I can’t hide out forever. Well, shit, I _can._ But I shouldn’t. I… I need to confront this at some point, right? I need to.. need to try again. _I do._ And if it lets me see you even one second sooner… then I’ll do it.”

“If you’re sure…” Jack was still hesitant, but he couldn’t help but grin. _November 4_! He could see Mark _this year_! “Then I’ll get us both tickets. I think I still have that Blizzard email somewhere, or, fuck, I’d buy them off a scalper if necessary, or I’d even totally abuse my awesome community and bribe someone into giving me theirs. I _will_ get us tickets, Mark. And you’re right.”

Conventions were a part of Markiplier’s life, just like they were Jacksepticeye’s. They’d both missed every convention this year due to Mark’s recovery, and their communities understood, but Jack had been drowning in guilt over them. If Mark could go to a convention again, though, then next year, they could do the convention rounds together. Jack would share Mark’s hotel room and keep him safe this time. And Blizzcon was a good starter convention. If they showed up without advertising it, recognition might be minimized, and then Mark could get used to the atmosphere of a convention without any pressure from signings, panels, or meet-and-greets.

“This would be good for you,” Jack said. “It’s close enough that you can drive, right?” He always had to double-check distances in America. “And if it’s too much, we can just leave. No pressure.”

“I’m sure. I wanna do this, Jack. And doing it with you is a damn good opportunity. I’m not about to pass it up. I’ll see what I can do too. Maybe they remember me from my WoW days….” Mark’s smile returned, slow and easy, as he relaxed back into his lounge chair. “Yeah. Yeah, I could drive there. That’ll be a relief. Knowing I can go whenever, without having to deal with airports or catching a plane. We wouldn’t even have to come _here._ We could go _anywhere._ It’s perfect. Let’s do it. Jack, let’s do this. We’ve got two weeks to get some damn tickets and by fucking god we’re gonna do it, or we’re not YouTubers!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	57. Day 289: Jack and the Pies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost, almost, they’re almost together!

In the end, it took the mighty power of Fifty-(plus)-Million Felix to wrangle Blizzcon tickets. Jack had fretted to him about the possibility of letting Mark down, and Felix had worked his magic for his favorite (sorry, _most hated_ ) Irish potato. He even offered to accompany Jack so it wasn’t quite so obviously a booty call in the eyes of the communities. Just three bros, taking a well-deserved break from their relentless YouTube lives, to hang out together and catch up.

Until Felix realized that Mark and Jack absolutely intended for it to be a booty call. He knew about their relationship: of course he did. He was practically an honorary big brother of Jack’s and the first person Jack had turned to when Mark had been in the room. Felix had kept _Jack_ alive. Of course he had told him about his boyfriend.

The Swede had scowled at them over Skype, then threw up his hands and declared if they were gonna get laid on this trip, so was he. Pewdiepie was no one’s third wheel!

And that was how Marzia ended up coming along.

Marzia never went to conventions with Felix. Her social anxiety often overpowered her, and she knew she would be mobbed by her Marzipans at those events. Jack fully understood how overwhelming the crowds could be and had always accepted the lack of Marzia. It had taken years of being Felix’s close friend before he’d actually _met_ the woman for the first time. Mark had only met her for the first time a month before he got taken..

Marzia did not talk about Blizzard games on her channel. She didn’t play them publically, she didn’t sponsor them, and they weren’t exactly her community’s prime interest. At Blizzcon, she would probably go fairly unnoticed (aside from being a pretty girl in a sea of nerds), and so she decided she would risk it to fly to America with Felix and visit with friends. They would both stay the full week Jack was, though not _with_ Jack after the convention, and then they’d fly back together. Everything would work out.

Everything _was_ working out… at least until the trio got to their hotel rooms. Mark had timed his drive to come in several hours after Jack, just to make sure Jack was at the hotel first, so Jack hung out with Felix and Marzia in their room.

“Oh no,” Marzia whispered, as Jack and Felix rough-housed on the bed. Felix immediately released Jack (Jack was _winning_ , despite what it looked like!) and looked over at Marzia.

She turned her laptop around, her face pale. _PEWDIEPIE AND CUTIEPIE AT BLIZZCON!_ an article shouted.

All four of them had kept their plans a secret this week. The Ship Sinker was still out there. He hadn’t struck since Mark, the longest period of quiet since he got started, but his site was still up. Popular ships were actually making a point of _not_ attending conventions together, to keep from becoming targets. Ken and Mary had talked about flying out to visit with Felix and Marzia and introduce them to their daughter, but that very fear had kept them at home.

“Who the fuck leaked it!?” Felix demanded.

“It looks like it came from within Blizzard,” Marzia said quietly, turning the laptop back and clicking through the article. “Trying to drum up attention?”

“Goddammit!” Felix punched at the pillows on the bed. Jack sighed. They had wanted to keep their plans secret so the Ship Sinker couldn’t target them, but they also hadn’t wanted Felix to get completely mobbed. So much for that plan.

“At least the tickets are already sold out?” Jack tried to cheer Felix up. “Nobody else can come who wasn’t planning on it anyway.”

“Thank fuck for that.”

“F-Felix…?” Marzia’s voice wobbled. Her hands were shaking as she twisted the laptop around again. Now she was on a different website, a familiar website, a website that _still_ conjured up feelings of dread and anxiety in the pit of Jack’s stomach with its simple red and black color scheme.

Only instead of saying SEPTIPLIER, there was a new ship name.

MELIX.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm being so sporadic with my comment replies. My life is...kinda out of hand at the moment. I am reading every single one, though, I promise!
> 
> I also know Marzia changed from CutiePieMarzia to just Marzia, but I figured the mainstream media thought the rhyme was too cute to ignore.
> 
> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	58. Evening 289: Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re finally home.

Mark messaged Jack when he arrived at the hotel, and Jack replied with the room number. He left Felix and Marzia's room with plenty of cautions, leaving them to hold each other, and all but ran down the hall to his room. Mark was here. In the building. In the _elevator_. Jack was minutes away from pulling him into a hug and pressing a kiss to that smile…

Jack reached beneath his shirt, rubbing his fingers over the MF etched into his skin. His other half was coming. Even with the looming threat of the Ship Sinker ( _not Felix, not Marzia, god, not them, please…_ ), Jack couldn't help but be giddy. Blizzcon didn't start until tomorrow. They would be safe tonight, at least. Jack could worry about Melix tomorrow. Tonight was for Septiplier.

Sitting on the bed, Jack gripped his knees through his torn skinny jeans and watched the door intently. He bounced a little. _Mark, Mark, Mark!_

There was a knock.

Jack flew off the bed at the sound, sprinting across the hotel room with the same enthusiasm he'd had when he met Mark for the very first time. Unlike that first time, Jack didn't care about what Mark thought of his eagerness. Neither did Mark, apparently, knocking again and again. He didn't stop to compose himself behind the door. Instead, he just unlocked the deadbolt and flung it open.

“ _Mark!_ ”

The hall was public, and anyone could see them. They could easily be recognized here. Jack took just a breath to look Mark over, take in the anxiety and that _smile_ , and then he was grabbing Mark's arm and pulling him into the room.

_“Jack.”_

Only after the door was closed and they were safe in the privacy of their hotel room did Jack fall against Mark, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and hugging him tight. “You're _here_!”

“I'm here….” Mark let his luggage drop like a stone and fell heavy into Jack’s arms.  “Jack….” Mark hugged Jack almost painfully tight with one arm and buried his face into Jack’s hair. He shuddered, breath tickling across Jack’s scalp while his free hand blindly felt around the door at their backs. Mark fumbled with the deadbolt and the chain on the door, still clinging to Jack. “Jack.. Jack…” Mark hugged Jack more fully with both arms and then his knees were buckling. He mumbled an incoherent apology as he ended up pulling Jack down to the floor with him.

“It's okay, it's okay…” Jack let Mark tug him to the floor, but he in turn tugged Mark into his lap. He cradled Mark against his chest and pressed kisses to his floofy hair. “I checked the room. It's safe. We're safe here.”

Sort of. The Ship Sinker _was_ active here. Watching the couple down the hall. Jack folded his arms tighter around Mark. They never came back for round two. Mark was safe. He _was_.

“I love you, Mark. I missed you. I love you.”

Mark buried himself into Jack. He pressed his face down into the junction of Jack’s neck and shoulder; kissing the skin with shaky breaths. He curled up and tucked his arms in between them. His shoulders sagged. “I was so scared I thought I was gonna throw up in the lobby, Jack, I'm…” Mark kissed at Jack’s neck again; nuzzling at his favorite spot. “...I love you. _I love you_ , godJack, I missed you so much. I'm so glad you're here I was so scared, Jack, coming up here.” He paused to draw a few steadying breaths. “...but I don't regret it. You're here. _You're here._ ”

“But you powered through. You made it. You're here. We're together.” Jack cupped Mark's face and kissed him, kissed him properly on the floor just behind the hotel door. “We're _together_ , Mark. It's okay now.”

Jack kissed Mark again, several times for good measure, then once more for luck, before drawing back and taking a breath. “Want to actually see the room?” he asked. “Kick your shoes off, use the toilet, stretch out on a bed?”

It was Mark’s turn to cup Jack’s face; staring into his eyes. When he spoke his tone was low and lacked any hint of a joke or tease. “All I want to see right now is you. If I'm gonna lay on that bed it better be with you right now, Sean McLoughlin. I've wanted to hold you like this for almost two months and I'm not about to stop five minutes after finally getting you back. Everything else can wait.” He pushed up to kiss Jack again and slid his hands back to curl fingers into Jack’s hair. When they did break the kiss for air, Mark lingered close. _“Jack….”_

“Bed's more comfortable,” Jack breathed. “Bed, Mark, let's move to the bed and hide in the blankets and never let go, okay?” It was late enough at night that Felix and Marzia would understand. No need for dinner. Just cuddles.

Jack wished he were strong enough to pick Mark up. To stand up off the floor without making Mark get out of his lap. Because he wasn't, he had to nudge Mark away, promising with a flurry of kisses that they wouldn't be parted for long. Once on his feet, Jack wrapped his arm around Mark's back, his Bloodborne tattoo pressing over the scar of his initials, and he guided Mark to the bed.

“Okay. Okay.” Mark leaned back against Jack’s arm when it wrapped around him.

Technically, there were two beds in the room, double queens for appearances. Jack had dumped his suitcase on one of them already though, so there was only one available bed left. Jack pushed Mark to sit on the edge, crouching down in front of him to tug Mark's shoes off.

Mark leaned forward to comb his fingers through Jack’s hair and breathed. “I wanna touch you. A lot. All over. I want you to touch me. Jack.”

“Mmm…” Jack closed his eyes and gave a shiver at Mark's words, imagining that strong body pressed against his. “Clothes on or off?” he asked, planting his hands on Mark's thighs and leaning up to kiss him again.

Jack wanted clothes off. He wanted clothes _completely_ off, but they hadn't gotten to that point yet. The closest they'd gotten was down to their underwear. Jack still hadn't managed to get his mouth on Mark's dick properly, though he had sucked him off through his boxers several times. Jack would be up for that again...or just for shedding most of their layers and wrapping up in each other's arms, fingers tracing their respective initials and mouths never separated for long.

Mark anxiously licked at his lips, growing pale and fumbling at Jack’s hands. “Clothes on.” The words came out rough and fast. He swallowed. “I just.. shirts, maybe. But pants on. Definitely. I… I just want to hold you, right now. For a while. And kiss you. Okay? I need to.. to settle down. I can't get my heart to stop racing.”

Jack nodded and squeezed Mark's hands. Old habits were returning already. “Climb under the blankets,” he said. He drew away from Mark to catch the toes of his socks, tugging them off as well. “I'll be right there.”

Mark nodded mutely and wiggled his way under the covers. Jack pulled his own socks off and emptied his pockets before he climbed onto the bed and crawled up the length to join Mark. As soon as they were both safe under the blankets, Jack offered open arms for the other man. “C’mere?”

Mark clambered into his waiting arms like a man possessed. Still breathing heavily, Mark pressed forward to rest his forehead against Jack’s chest. Mark’s fingers found the spot at Jack’s lower back and slipped beneath Jack’s shirt to gently rub the lettering. “...are you sure it's safe?”

Jack rubbed Mark’s back, tugging up Mark’s shirt just enough to press fingers against the SM scarred into his skin. “I checked the room. There’s no one else here, just you and me. The only door in is locked three ways, and your bag is in front of it anyway. We’re twelve floors up. No one is coming through the window.” He kissed Mark’s hair and held him close. “We’re safe here.” Mark released a breath.

This was a new experience for Mark. For all that he had improved, he was still badly damaged in so many ways. Returning to a hotel less than a year after being kidnapped from one was a _huge_ deal for him. Jack could be patient and reassuring, especially after recovering some of his mental strength without needing to worry about Mark every minute of every day.

“ _I’m_ here. And I love you.”

“..o.. okay. O-okay. I got it. I've got this.” The tremor in his tone conveyed otherwise, but Mark squirmed until he could poke his head out from beneath the covers. Mark wrapped his arms more securely around his boyfriend. He stubbornly tugged him closer to nuzzle at his chin with a soft huff. “I love you. I missed you. I'm so glad you're here right now; with me. I… I knew it was gonna trigger my anxiety but I didn't think it'd be this bad. I... I hope I don't react like this at the convention tomorrow….”

“You’ve done so much today alone,” Jack murmured, pressing his lips to Mark’s skin. “I’m so proud of you. I’m so glad you were able to come. I’m so glad _I_ was able to come. These last two weeks have dragged on _forever_.”

But they were here now, together now. Mark was in Jack’s arms and if they didn’t actually go to the convention, it didn’t matter. The convention was an excuse to get Jack into the same country.

“The last month has dragged on forever…” Mark mumbled the words along the curve of Jack’s jaw. He dragged his lips across the stubble there, back and forth. He squeezed Jack tight and nosed down his neck, then pulled his lips wetly back up the expanse.

Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. “You smell so much better than I remember,” he said. “Fuck, Mark… I feel like I’m home.” Five thousand miles away from his house, in a random hotel room, and Jack was home simply because Mark was there.

Mark slid his fingers up and down Jack’s back beneath his shirt and kept his voice a low whisper. “Me too. We could be sitting in an empty lot and I'd _still_ feel more at home with you than anywhere else alone. I don't care if I _can_ live without you, Jack. I don't _want_ to. I want _you._ ”

“Mark…” Jack squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He’d looked into immigrating to the U.S., but the more he slept on it, the more he remembered why he didn’t like L.A. Mark was _wonderful_ , and Jack loved being with him, but he wasn’t sure if his love for this man would be strong enough to overpower the misery he’d feel in the big city once the honeymoon stage was over. Even if Mark was thinking of moving further out of the city, Jack still wasn’t entirely comfortable with uprooting his entire life and moving so far away from _his_ family. He was an Irish potato down to his bones. What would he even _do_ in America?

And even if Jack had been completely in love with the U.S. and L.A., the fact remained that immigration to this country was next to impossible if you didn’t have an in-demand career. ‘Freelance YouTuber’ didn’t cut it, no matter how famous he was. Marrying Mark might get him in, but Jack knew they were nowhere near that level of discussion.

Jack sighed and bit his lip as Mark’s fingers smoothed over his tattoo. “Not tonight,” he said. “We’ll talk about it later, okay? Not tonight. Not the first night.” Jack reached up to angle Mark’s face up so he could kiss him. “Tonight is about you. I’m gonna fucking _worship_ you, Mark. I’ve finally gotten you back under my hands; don’t think I won’t.”

Beneath the safety of the blankets, Jack pushed his hands up Mark’s shirt, tickling fingertips across his belly and finding old scars he once had memorized. Mark’s nipples were… _there_ , and if Jack flicked his thumbs across them, Mark would make the most delicious sound.

“Only if I get to worship you ba- _aaack, Jack.”_ Mark bucked slightly in Jack’s arms. He dug fingertips into Jack’s back and kissed him soundly.

And Felix had originally thought this wasn’t going to happen…

Jack nearly giggled at the thought of their Swedish friend, but then Mark’s leg was pushing between his and _ohhh_ , Jack automatically pushed back. He rubbed across Mark’s nipples, then kissed at his chin. Careful, careful, no pinching or nipping. Not tonight. Mark was still on-edge. Tonight was all about loving Mark, and not lustfully attacking him. “Can I get your shirt off?” he asked, flitting a series of kittenish licks up Mark’s stubble. “Wanna get my mouth on you… we can pull the blankets over our heads and hide from the world…”

Mark released another groan. “Shirt… shirt’s okay. Slowly. And.. and you gotta take yours off too. That's the rule.” Gripping the hem of Jack’s shirt, Mark got a head start on rucking it up Jack’s chest. He kissed at a pale cheek and pressed his knee in again. “Under the covers,” came his breathless agreement.

Jack tugged his shirt off, whipping it over his hair and chucking it aside. Mark was making it very hard to focus with how he was gently grinding his leg up and into Jack’s groin, giving him something to rub against and sparking fresh heat at the base of his spine.

Shirtless now, Jack grabbed the covers and tugged them up, burying himself and Mark in clean white sheets and a thick comforter. Even if someone walked in on them (which they wouldn’t), they wouldn’t be able to see anything. Jack shifted to lean over Mark’s torso, pushing his shirt higher and pressing his mouth against those abs. “You’ve kept up your exercise regimen,” he noted, tracing muscles with his tongue and kissing up scars. “Me likey…”

Mark arched lightly into every flex of his tongue. “ _Fuck,_ I missed your mouth, even if it says some really goddamn dorky things… ‘Me likey’? Really Jack?” Mark scraped nails down Jack’s back then squeezed at his hips. “...see you haven’t,” he mumbled, teasing.

“Shuddup...” Jack complained. The tension was seeping out of his boyfriend’s body, being replaced by a different tautness in his muscles. Jack could feel the difference between anxiety and arousal, hear it in the tone of Mark’s voice as it dipped lower and rumbled into his ears and down his back. He shivered and gave a shallow roll of his hips against Mark’s leg, finding the dip of his sternum and kissing up and up. The hollow between Mark’s collarbones was a good place to stop, and Jack sucked gently on the curve of bone. “You like having something to hold onto…”

Mark arched in a gradual, steady way this time and then held it. His own crotch was pressed lightly against Jack’s pelvis while his knee steadily ground into Jack’s growing erection. He met every push down of Jack’s hips. “So do you.”

Mark’s hands dipped lower, groping Jack’s ass through his jeans. “But you like more than that, don’t you? I know what you like… I know what you want… Jack. Tell me what you want.”

Jack worked one hand beneath the curve of Mark’s back so he could trace his initials. He groaned as Mark’s hands sunk into his ass, kneading the muscle and pinning him between Mark’s grip and his knee. Good thing, too, because Mark’s sex voice was definitely making his knees wobble, and seeing as how he was _on_ his knees, holding himself over Mark’s body, that was a fairly dangerous position.

“How… how much do you want?” Jack asked. He mouthed along Mark’s collarbone and then dipped down to kiss the edge of a nipple. Mark had just the sparest trace of chest hair, probably from his lack of waxing challenges lately. “Want me to be realistic?” He rocked slowly against Mark’s support, then again, harder. “Or want me to tell you what I _really_ want…?”

“I- _nngh.._ ” Mark whimpered. He pressed back with his knee and pulled forward with his hands. “...n-not… not too bad. Not too much, I can’t.. not here. Just… just tell me what you want… what you _know_ I could do for you… How much you want me to touch you, a-and where, and how… I’ll do it. I’d give you _everything_ if I could, Jack, but I can’t. So I’ll give you what I can…”

Jack closed his eyes, thinking. There was a flush to his face that only grew darker as he shaped sentences in his mind, and he was grateful the blankets kept things too dark to really see it well. He kissed his way up Mark’s chest as he thought, settling in close to Mark’s ear so he could speak in his best deep, quiet voice.

“I want you to touch me.” As he murmured the words, Jack rolled his entire body, pressing his chest to Mark’s, his swelling dick against Mark’s leg, his fingers up against Mark’s back. “I want you to grab my ass and pull me down, remind me of your strength. I want your mouth on _my_ skin, my nips. I want to feel you hard and heavy against me, _needing_ me like I need you. I wanna get our jeans open, no sharp zippers between us, just our dicks pushing together as you push me over because we both know you like to show off these glorious guns of yours. I want you to pin me down and thrust up against me like you wanna fuck me, like _I_ want you to fuck me. I wanna _feel_ you, Mark, want to know you’re real and you’re here and not just a vivid fantasy, not anymore.”

 _“Hnnn…”_ Mark squirmed against Jack, beneath him, seeking to ignite as much friction as possible across their entire bodies. His hands shifted into action, trailing with a delay after Jack’s words but taking his suggestions to heart. Mark dragged Jack down by his ass so that the bulge in his pants scraped harsh along Mark’s thigh. He pulled until Jack’s knees collapsed beneath him and only his hands could continue supporting his weight. Then Mark wiggled down; gasping sharply as his own dick connected with Jack’s dropped leg. _“Fuck, Jack…”_

As he gasped for breath, Jack licked the shell of Mark’s ear and then leaned in closer. “And _then_ , when we’re both hot and sticky and sated, I want us to lie in each other’s arms so tangled together we can’t tell whose limbs are whose, breathing the same air and sharing the same heartbeat, and I want us to fall asleep like that, warm and safe and _loved_.”

Jack grunted as Mark took his words to heart, pulling him down and pressing him close. He groaned, thrusting against Mark’s thigh, rubbing his own leg against Mark’s trapped erection. Mark’s mouth sought out his chest and Jack whined for him, arching his back and pushing into Mark’s mouth when that tongue swiped out. He _wailed_ as Mark bit him, a sudden punch of need slamming into his gut as he remembered all the marks Mark had left on him in the past, all the lingering bruises that would remind him of Mark’s passion even days later. It had gotten to the point in Ireland where Jack was _never_ without Mark’s lovebites, and he hadn’t even realized how badly he had missed them.

“Mark, god, _yes_ , just like that!” Mark obviously couldn’t respond with a full mouth, but Jack could feel him thrusting his hips up, and then again, very insistently. Mark was doing everything Jack had said thus far, and the next step…

Mark’s hands were full of Jack’s ass, squeezing and holding him in place. Jack bit his lip, then wormed his hands between their bodies, reluctantly releasing Mark’s scar to go for his own fly. He popped the button and worked the zip down, and when Mark made no sign of distress, Jack reached for his boyfriend’s.

Of course, Mark’s fly was over Mark’s erection, and Jack couldn’t resist a squeeze of the hard bulge while his hands were down there. He cupped Mark’s dick through his jeans, stroking roughly, then worked his fly open. His fingers were much more gentle after they squirmed inside the denim, petting along the side of Mark’s straining erection.

Mark’s hips _leaped_ off the bed into Jack’s hand. His mouth popped off Jack’s chest with a startled cry. Mark gave a full body shudder, dug his heels into the bed and _arched_ up against Jack’s fingers with his pelvis. His hands scrabbled wherever they could reach. Nails scraped and fingertips pressed across Jack’s back, sides, hips, belly until Mark gave up on his hands and used his arms instead. In approximately five seconds, Mark had his arms and legs around Jack in a vice grip. Their chests were crushed together and Mark’s face was buried into Jack’s shoulder. He whined softly. “Jack…”

Jack wasn’t entirely sure if that was a positive reaction or not. Mark was _clinging_ , but he had pushed _into_ Jack, not pushed Jack away. Jack couldn’t move his arm anymore, his own leg pressed tight against the back of his hand.

 _When in doubt, slow down._ Jack nuzzled against Mark’s damp hair, relaxing his fingers as best he could even as he felt the twitches in Mark’s dick against his knuckles. “I gotcha,” he said quietly. “I gotcha, Mark, I… well… you got me, but it’s the same thing.” He giggled a little breathlessly, keeping up his soft nuzzling and intermixing gentle kisses. “It’s just me, Mark, just me, I love you. No one else is here. Just me and you. And I love you. I love you so much.”

Slowly, Mark’s limbs loosened. He kept his arms looped around Jack nonetheless while he worked to get his breath back at a more efficient pace. “Love you. I l-love you I just.. It was a lot. It was a lot and it’s been too long, s-sorry, I’m okay. I am. I’m…” His face was bright red even in the dimness beneath the covers as he pressed his cheek against Jack’s shoulder. “...I’m really fucking close to nutting right now, Jack.”

“Stamina day is just as important as leg day,” Jack whispered into Mark’s hair, but he giggled again and rolled for Mark, using their tangled limbs to pull Mark on top of him. “It’s okay, Mark,” he said as he rolled up against Mark’s body. “I’ve been skipping too…” He was a little more composed than Mark, but his eyes were bright and his hips insistently rocking upward. Jack needed to cum too.

“Fuck you, you love my legs.” Mark whispered back but also fell into another fit of giggles. Mark held himself up with one arm and moved the other to stroke lovingly at Jack’s face. “Libido of teens, fuckin’ stamina of them too. We’re pathetic.”

“You can let go,” Jack said. His hand found its way to Mark’s back again, other hand sliding along Mark’s hip and tugging him down. “You can let go whenever, let out all your stress and tension and just… be here. With me.”

Mark sucked in a tight breath through his teeth as Jack kept rolling up against him. Jaw clenched, he curled forward over Jack and slowly returned the movement. His next breath hitched. Mark whimpered, clutched hard at Jack’s shoulder and the bed sheets and leaned in close. “ _Jack._ Jack, I’m g-gonna be fucking loud you’d better kiss me right now unless you want them knocking at our _door_ -”

“Isn’t there a song like that?” Jack asked. He didn’t need an answer. He leaned up instead, using his abs ( _yes_ , Mark, he’d worked out enough to have abs) to lift himself close enough to catch Mark’s lips and guide him down into a kiss. Jack welcomed Mark into his mouth, coaxing him to let go with tongue and teeth and fingers on his body, dick rolling up against Mark’s, their bodies finding a familiar rhythm against each other even after over a month apart.

With Jack’s mouth stifling his own, Mark ripped his hips forward with a sharp jerk and even sharper cry. Mark practically sobbed into their kiss as his hips rolled incessantly forward against Jack. _“Jack…”_

Getting Mark to fall apart was always a power trip. Jack held Mark through his orgasm, kissed him, kept rocking up. When Mark collapsed on top of him, Jack gave a shaky laugh, freeing his hand from Mark’s hip to reach between his legs and grip his own dick. It only took a couple of strokes before he came as well, jerking up sharply against his boneless lover and biting into his lip hard enough to draw blood in an attempt to stay quiet.

A lazy euphoria filled his body, and Jack relaxed into the mattress. The space beneath the blankets smelled like sweat and sex and _them_ , and Jack could think of no better description of home or safety. He nuzzled against Mark, sighing in contentment. “Love you,” he murmured, freeing his hand from his dick to fold it around Mark’s back again. “Love you so much…”

Mark eagerly returned the gesture with a happy hum. Mark’s arms lined up with Jack’s sides so his hands could curve lightly over Jack’s shoulders; thumbs rubbing circles into the skin there. Nibbling contently at Jack’s chin, Mark tucked his head up under Jack’s jaw with a breathy sigh. “Love you more than anything else in the whole world. Even space. Could make an ‘out of this world’ joke but ‘m not _Wade_ and ‘m also tired. G’night.”

Jack huffed softly and patted Mark's back. “I'm so glad you're not Wade.” For the first time in a long time, Jack actually _wanted_ to sleep. He smiled, letting his limbs grow heavy. “Night, Mark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	59. Morning 290: Nightmare Realized

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has to warn Mark.

Jack sat on the edge of the bed, sipping his Styrofoam cup of plasticky hotel room coffee and watching Mark fuss over the last details of his outfit. They were going to meet up with Felix and Marzia for a proper breakfast and then hit the convention. Mark was trying to decide between a hoodie covering the scars on his arms or going without, with just a t-shirt. He kept checking in a mirror, his agitation obvious.

Jack hadn't told him about the website yet.

He hadn't wanted to say anything last night. Mark was tense enough as it was, and Jack hadn't wanted to ruin their first night together again. He hadn't told Mark this morning either, because he wanted Mark to feel comfortable taking a shower and getting dressed. He needed to say something before meeting up with Felix and Marzia.

“Mark?” Jack patted the bed beside him. “Can you come sit with me? There's something...something I need to tell you. Something Marzia discovered last night.” _Not about us, don't panic, I still love you…_

Mark turned away from the mirror to look at Jack with concern. “Jack…? What's up? Did something happen?” He pulled on the hoodie he was eyeing aside and didn't hesitate to join Jack on the bed. “If it's about them being here getting leaked, I already know about that. Even if I hadn't seen the article- which is _everywhere,_ Blizzard really hecked up- all my fans are asking if I'll be meeting up with him here. Since they knew I was coming.”

“Something did happen.” Jack drained his coffee and set it aside before wrapping his arm around Mark's back, pressing against his scar. “Fans aren't the only ones who know they're here.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Mark…”

Mark naturally leaned into Jack and returned the gesture. He squeezed Jack’s waist a little but was already forcing a breath after the first few words.

“The ship name changed. It's not Septiplier anymore.” Jack opened his eyes to look at Mark, knowing Mark would already know _which_ ship name Jack meant.

“It's Melix.”

“Ohgod.” Mark wrapped his free arm around his own stomach and squeezed. He was white as a sheet and looked like he was going to be physically ill. Brown eyes were so wide they looked to be straining in their sockets as he hunched over. A tremble had started up in his back and limbs as a whispered flurry of _“no”_ and _“can't”_ and _“please”_ poured from his lips.

“We don't have to stay.” Jack immediately twisted on the bed to hold Mark. “We don't have to go to the convention at all. Felix agreed to do one small meet and greet in exchange for the tickets, but _we_ didn't agree to anything. We can meet them for breakfast and just...not go. It's gonna be okay, Mark. I won't let you get hurt again. I promise.”

Mark turned into Jack’s embrace in a heartbeat. He buried his face into Jack’s shoulder where he continued forcing in deep breaths. His arm relinquished its hold on his stomach in favor of clinging to the front of Jack’s shirt. Shakily, he nuzzled into Jack’s shoulder while everything sunk in and Mark contemplated his options.

Mark drew one last breath before pulling his face from Jack’s shoulder. His expression was solemn but determined as he looked Jack in the eye. “I'll stay.”

Jack didn't mean for his relief to be so obvious, but he sagged a little at Mark's declaration and smiled. “Oh _good_. I mean, not that I _want_ you to be uncomfortable, but Felix and Marzia were talking yesterday. They don't want to rely on convention security, not after…”

_After that's probably how they got you._

“You and I are the only two people here that they _know_ have nothing to do with those bastards. We can stay with them, make sure they're never alone, walk them back to their room at night and help them check...We can keep them safe.” Jack rucked a hand through his hair and squeezed his other arm around Mark's back. “I don't want either of them to go through what I did. I _definitely_ don't want them to experience what you did.”

Mark snuggled a bit closer to Jack and released his shirt to wrap both arms more securely around him. He kissed at Jack’s cheek. “That's what I was thinking too… We didn't have that, when they… I want to help. I want to do anything I can to stop anyone else from suffering. They're not gonna win their game this time. They're _not._ ” He took another shaky breath and leaned in to nuzzle at the side of Jack’s head. “...I-I'm not gonna lie, though, Jack. I'm scared. I am. I'm… I'm fucking terrified, let's be real here. I was already anxious about the convention but now this… I don't know how useful I'm actually gonna be. I might just drag you all down.”

“I know,” Jack said, hugging Mark and rubbing his back. “I know. It's easy to say we're not targets anymore, but even if we knew that for a fact, it doesn't change how we're feeling. If we all stick together, though...They can take one. Maybe even can deal with two. But _four_?” Jack kissed Mark's forehead. “We'll stay together. We'll keep them safe. You won't have to _do_ anything, just be another set of eyes. And if you need time or space, we can go with you, get you somewhere private and safe. Just let us know, okay?” Jack rested his cheek on Mark's hair and closed his eyes. “Your comfort comes first.”

Mark still looked queasy and anxious, but he got out a stiff nod. He tucked his face in against Jack’s and just breathed. Fingers slipped under the hem of Jack’s shirt to brush against the familiar tattoo. “I'll tell you. I will. And we'll stop them. They won’t get their hands on anyone else. Not on them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	60. Day 290: Convention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark holds it together.

In the end, Felix and Marzia really did turn away the extra convention security. The four of them were going to guard each other. No one would go _anywhere_ unaccompanied. Mark and Jack would walk Felix and Marzia back to their room every night, and stay with them while they checked their room for intruders. Even trips to the bathroom would be done in groups (and Marzia would have a trio of men waiting outside the women’s room for her reappearance).

That actually worked so well that by the end of the first day, the men were doing it too. It really was just awkward to go to the urinals en masse. As they were headed out of the convention hall, Jack spotted a restroom and made a quick decision.

“Ugh, hang on, guys.” He gestured vaguely off to the side. “Gotta take a leak or I won’t make it back to the hotel. Just wait for me.”

“Don’t get kidnapped,” Felix scolded. His words were light, but there was a sober shadow over his face. Melix was still on the Ship Sinker’s website. His arm was firmly around Marzia’s waist, and hers around his. After what had happened to Mark, they were right to be scared.

“I’m not a target anymore,” Jack reminded them, before hurrying off to the bathroom. Not that he’d be a target in a public bathroom. It had to be hard to steal someone from such an open venue like a convention hall.

“Ah, shit, sorry bro!” Jack bumped into a large man in his haste to get to a urinal. He smiled his apologies before turning his back so he could unzip and _ahhh_ , nothing quite like the relief of a good piss after drinking way too much soda all day.

“Jacksepticeye?”

And nothing _quite_ like getting identified by a fan with your dick out. Jack winced and plastered a grin on his face as he glanced over his shoulder at the man he’d run into. He looked vaguely familiar “Ah, yeah, give me a minute?” Code of the urinal and all that: you didn’t take the one next to an occupied urinal, you didn’t look, and you didn’t talk.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, and Jack jumped, glancing back again. The man was _right there_ , gripping his shoulder hard, easily two or even three times his size. “Dude, some space?” He was trying to tuck himself away, but another large hand suddenly grabbed his, grabbed _him_ , and Jack’s blood ran cold.

He knew where he’d seen that face before. Those eyes. That _smile_. Mark’s security guard, from PAX South. The last one to have seen Mark before he was kidnapped. The one who had been bringing their drinks from the bar all night. Mark didn’t remember _who_ took him from his room. He knew he’d probably been drugged before he’d even left Jack’s side that night. This man, this guard, had been the top suspect...but without evidence, he had gotten away.

“I don’t think _space_ is in your best interest right now,” the man practically purred, yanking Jack away from the urinal and leading him toward a toilet stall. Jack yipped as he was tugged roughly by his dick, the man’s broad chest shoving him better than hands alone. “I always love the pictures I get, but sometimes, you know, sometimes I wish I could have a bit of fun myself.”

Jack’s heart was pounding, his head spinning as he was shoved up against the toilet, banging his shins into the porcelain. He fell forward, bracing himself against the cool tile wall with his free hand, breath coming harsh and fast as the guard squeezed his hand tightly around Jack’s fingers and his dick. Jack could feel his knuckles pop, tendons of his fingers screaming.

“Markimoo was such a joyful little pup, but I always did prefer the lanky ones.” The man leaned in and bit, _bit_ Jack’s ear as he worked his other hand down the back of Jack’s jeans, shoving them and his briefs down his hips. “You stay quiet now, or all your fans will get to see how much you love taking a cock up the ass. Can’t you just imagine their horror, their idol getting caught fucking in the bathroom? Stay quiet, Jackaboy. Think of the kiddies…”

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, a gasp of horror escaping as the guard shoved up against his bare ass, driving a denim-clad erection between his cheeks. The straining teeth of the zipper bit his skin, and Jack grit his teeth to keep from screaming. _Don’t ruin it for the fans, don’t let them know, don’t let them see…_

_They saw Mark._

Jack was only dimly aware of the sound of a zipper pulling down as he opened his eyes to stare at the wall. _They saw Mark and they embraced him afterwards and it’s_ ** _okay_** _, his community survived,_ ** _he_** _survived...and mine can too. Mark survived this...and I can too._ ** _I can too._**

A thick hand grabbed one of Jack’s thighs, forcing his legs apart, disgusting cock probing at his ass, and Jack screamed. He sucked in the biggest breath he could and he let it out with the maximum volume he could manage. Jack was not known as the loudest YouTuber for nothing. He screamed, howled, let his voice climb up and up. _Like fuck I’m letting you get away with this!_ He shoved away from the wall, slamming himself back against his attacker. His head caught the other man in the mouth, teeth cutting into his scalp. His right hand was trapped in the man’s hand, but he drove his left elbow back, trying to hit the soft fleshy area of the man’s stomach. He missed, his elbow angling off to the side, but he kept screaming.

“Jesus fuck, you loud-mouthed bitch!” The man twisted his hold on Jack’s hand and dick, actually drawing _more_ scream to Jack’s voice as he clawed blindly behind him, but then he had grabbed Jack by the neck and slammed him face-first into the tile wall. Jack yelped as he heard bone crack, a rush of blood running out his nose. His voice was tapering off, hampered by the fingers squeezing his throat. “What part of stay _quiet_ didn’t you understand?”

_You broke my nose!_ Jack tugged at the hand around his neck, futilely trying to budge it, but it was shoving down, pushing him to his knees, god, they hit the floor hard enough to crack, _ow_ , stop it, stop it… Jack wheezed a cry again as his face was slammed against the toilet bowl, his already broken nose taking the brunt of the pain, but then he was being shoved further down and the pressure on his neck was gone, replaced with a hand on the back of his head, pressing him into the water.

Jack flailed blindly, trying to struggle, to kick, but the man was kneeling on his legs and holding him down, trying to drown him. Jack’s eyes were closed and his lungs were burning, his nose was a throbbing mass of pain, his hand and dick _ached._ His fingers hit something metal and Jack yanked desperately, hoping, hoping, _yes_! The water wooshed out of the toilet bowl, and Jack sucked in a breath, sputtering on the water already flooding back in. He pulled the handle again and again, trying to keep breathing, trying to twist his shoulders or his hips to throw his attacker off, trying _anything_.

_Don’t let me die here, don’t let me die, don’t let me die, god, not like this, not like this…_ Jack knew he was crying, and he knew no one else could tell, his face was already so sodden with blood and toilet water. He didn’t want to die, of course he didn’t, but more than that...he didn’t want to die _here_. Because Mark was outside, Mark was waiting for him, and if Mark ever learned that Jack had been killed while Mark waited, Mark would never forgive himself. _Never_.

_Let me survive this, let me survive this so I can hug him and tell him I’ll be okay…_

Maybe screaming had been the wrong idea. Jack managed to flush the toilet again, fighting hardest to keep his arm free so he could keep snatching small breaths of air. If he had been raped, he’d at least have stayed alive. For Mark. _For Mark…_

Jack choked as his attacker fell against him when the door slammed in, hand slipping off the toilet handle, water flooding into his mouth. But then the pressure was gone and Jack could shove back, get his head out of the toilet, gagging and coughing, his body rejecting the water he’d swallowed, breathed.

Jack was still hunched and coughing, clinging to the porcelain bowl with one white-knuckled hand. Tears mixed with toilet water on his face, and Jack didn't dare open his eyes, didn't want to see. There was shouting and _Mark_ and strong, _slim_ arms wrapped around him, not the thick logs of his attacker or Mark's impressive biceps. Soft cloth pressed against his face, wiping at his eyes.

Jack _hurt_. His legs hurt, shins and knees and thighs. His throat hurt, stomach hurt, lungs hurt. His nose, oh god, his whole _face_ still felt like it was on fire, and the salty tears spilling down his cheeks were not helping anything. He was soaked to about mid-chest, but he managed to crack his eyes open. Funnily enough, it was the tattoos he recognized first. “F-Felix…?” he croaked. But Mark, he thought he heard Mark…

“Ma-rk!” His voice cracked halfway through the name, a sob shaking loose. Felix cradled Jack like he was spun glass, but Jack still shivered and cried, begging for Mark, wherever he was.

“Mark, he's down!” Felix shouted. “He's _down_ , Mark, you won, get your ass over here!”

“Sean!!” With a few heavy grunts and some wheezing of his own, Mark crawled over to the crowded stall. Blood was still smeared on his face and knuckles; trickling down his chin from a split lip. _“Jack.”_ Gasping and crying himself, Mark's hands went to Jack, dragging him away from Felix into his lap. His arms shook. “Sean, _Jesus,_ Sean….”

Felix let Mark take Jack, hesitating for a moment before getting up to join Marzia in the doorway. She had been doing a great job holding back the crowds on her own, though she was pale and shaking herself. Felix wrapped her in his arms and scowled at the people gathering outside. “Fuck off! Nothing to see!”

Jack, meanwhile, just broke, sobbing into Mark’s shoulder as Mark whispered his real name in his ear. He was leaving a huge wet splotch across Mark’s shirt, but he didn't care. His pants were still around his knees, as he hadn’t yet had the presence of mind to pull them up. There were more important things. “Are you, are you, are you…”

Still crying and coughing, Jack stretched up a hand, cupped Mark’s face and brushed his thumb through Mark’s bloodied stubble. His blue eyes searched Mark’s dark ones, looking for shadows. “ _Are you okay?_ ”

Jack had nearly died. _Nearly._ Nearly didn’t count. He was okay. He’d be okay. But Mark… Mark had just confronted one of his assailants. Was still in the same room as a strange, violent man with his dick hanging out of his pants. Was he okay? Was he holding himself together? Jack needed to know. He needed to know Mark wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack.

Mark’s fingers dug into Jack’s side, his hip; nose tracing the fair hairline spotted with blood. He was crying into Jack’s hair and kissed at Jack’s wet forehead. Mark was cradling Jack like a treasure, like he was the most valuable thing in the world. He turned his head; pressing kiss after kiss to Jack’s palm, his fingers. Mark sobbed, “Who cares?!”

“ _I do!_ ” Jack reached up with his other hand, catching Mark’s face and pulling him down for a kiss...a kiss that caused his nose to bump against Mark’s cheek. He whined in pain, pulling back, cupping a hand protectively around it. “I’m fine, Mark, _I’m_ fine, but you...fuck, you just beat up that dickbag…”

Mark trailed fingertips up and down Jack’s back in an effort to soothe him. Cupping a broken nose, soaked from a near drowning, shaking and crying and bloody was definitely a new definition of _fine_ , but Jack knew his injuries were (almost) all physical. The man hadn’t managed to do anything more than grope and grind and very nearly kill him (good lord was he going to be scared of public toilets from now on?). He was _fine_. His injuries would heal and he wouldn’t be reduced to a frail shell of a man like Mark had been.

“Jack, shut up, you are definitely _not_ fine. And yeah, neither is _that_ guy, but I’m gonna be blunt for a second and say I don’t really give one singular fuck- singular, Jack, not plural- about him. All I care about right now is _you._ ”

“You saved me…” Beneath Jack’s hand, a slow smile, shaky but _proud_ , was stretching across his face. “Mark... _you saved my life…_ ” Because Jack had been afraid he was going to die. He didn’t die, and he was fine, but he had been so scared in that moment...and he burrowed back into Mark’s shoulder, pressing his forehead against Mark’s hoodie to protect his nose.

Belatedly, Mark had the thought to blindly tug up Jack’s pants as best he could while still cradling Jack. He kissed at Jack’s green hair almost reverently, pressed his nose into Jack’s wet hair and exhaled a sigh. “I’d do anything to keep you safe, Jack… Stand up to anyone… I don’t care if they hurt me in the past, all I cared about was helping you… I’m so glad you’re alive… I’m so glad he didn’t…” Mark hiccuped.

Jack didn’t even notice the people pressing against Marzia and Felix, trying to see, trying to get a picture of what was going on in the bathroom. Luckily, the doorway was narrow and Felix was angry. Still, Jack shifted as Mark tugged at his jeans, freeing one hand to help Mark tug them back up over his hips. He didn’t bother with his fly, just curled back into Mark, grumbling as Mark moved him again.

Mark wiggled an arm out from around Jack’s body to unzip his hoodie. He managed to shrug the thing off with some humorously awkward effort; absolutely refusing to take both hands off of Jack. Once obtained, he took a moment to dab at the worst of the mess on Jack’s face and hair, then wrapped the larger article of clothing around Jack’s soaked torso. He shuddered a sigh and kissed at Jack’s head again.

The hoodie was thin and quickly became soaked itself, but the _knowledge_ of what it meant warmed Jack better than any towel. He drew a hand away to hug the hoodie close, though it was hard for him to smell anything through the scent of blood filling his nose. Mark had stood in front of the mirror in their hotel room for what felt like _hours_ this morning, debating comfort over coverage. For Mark to _remove_ the hoodie and expose the reminders of that godawful time…

“Just hang on, Jack, okay? Someone’s had to have called 911 by now, and security is probably on their way, and I don’t know if I could intimidate the paramedics into riding with you in the ambulance but we’re _together_ now and I’ll kiss you absolutely stupid if I need to prove it to them so they’ll let me stay. I won’t let you go, Jack. I promise, I’ll never let you go.”

“I’d kiss you again if it didn’t hurt so much,” Jack whispered. “God, I love you. So fucking much. And I…”

Jack fell silent, then gave an amused snort into Mark’s shoulder, followed by another pained yip. “ _Ow._ Don’t make me laugh, you _goober_.” How many times had Mark quoted Titanic at him? Especially those damn door raft lines. It had just become one of their _things_ , like their future nonexistent goat children. Jack loved it, even as he heckled Mark for his apparent obsession with the movie.

“No kisses until you at least get your nose patched up. Mark’s orders. I love you too…. Please don’t get mad at me for making you laugh with a broken nose, I swear I’m innocent. That movie stole the lines from me. Can’t I be romantic without needing a Titanic comparison just ‘cause your name _happens_ to be Jack??” Mark pouted a bit, then nuzzled at Jack’s hair again.

But then the crowd gathered at the door was finally parting, and several members of the convention’s security force were pushing inside. With them were a pair of paramedics that had brought along a stretcher. Mark tried to explain the situation to the paramedics; to security. Jack didn’t pay much attention, just clinging to Mark as the paramedics coaxed them apart. They ended up moving Jack to the stretcher, worried about a concussion, but Mark kept holding Jack’s hand and walked alongside them.

Mark nearly climbed into the ambulance but one of the paramedics stopped him. He tried to stammer about their relationship, but the paramedic looked dubious. Jack protested, pleading with the paramedics, but the fact remained that Mark _wasn’t_ family, and the doors were shut without Mark beside him. Jack looked at the paramedics beside him and tried to reassure himself that he was going to be okay, these people were here to help him, and Felix and Marzia had Mark. They had Mark, and the Ship Sinker was in another ambulance and everything was going to be fine…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	61. Evening 290: Love and Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They push further.

Jack hated the hospital. He hated the poking and prodding, the tests, the photographs of his injuries, the questioning by the police. He hated having to change into clean clothes without getting clean himself, hated feeling the cold toilet water drying clammy beneath his hospital-gift-shop t-shirt. Mostly, he hated leaving Mark behind.

By the time he police escorted him back, Jack felt about three feet tall, cold and aching. His face had been washed, as well as the wound to the back of his head. His right hand was splinted, and his scrapes had been cleaned and disinfected, but really, he was lucky to be as unhurt as he was. Mostly, he was bruised. _Badly_ bruised, his legs already turning purple beneath his borrowed sweats, but still just bruises. He had a prescription of a heavy-duty painkiller fogging his senses and the knowledge that he was soon going to be back in his hotel room. With Mark. _Mark._

The door was locked. Jack stared blankly at the little green light on the lock and swiped his card again. Green. Turn the handle and push, and the door was locked. Jack wanted to cry. Green light meant _go_. Why couldn’t he get in?

The deadbolt clicked and a chain slid, and then the door was pulled open. Jack looked up at Felix. Oh. _Other_ locks. “I’mma stoop.”

“Well… _yeah_.” Felix looked exhausted, but he clapped Jack on the shoulder. When Jack smiled at him, Felix clapped his other hand and pulled him into a hug. “You tiny potato, you scared us all!”

“Sorry, Felix. Is Mark here?” Jack hugged Felix back, patted his back, and then pulled back, trying to look around Felix’s side.

“I should hope so, it’s his room.” Felix waved Jack in, closing the door behind him. “We’ve been keeping him awake to keep an eye on him.”

Jack wandered down the hall, his left hand lifting up to toy with the strings of Mark’s hoodie that he was wearing. “Mark…?”

 _“Jack.”_ Mark was on his feet in an instant. There was ice on his knuckles and he’d been holding a third bag up to his mouth, but he dropped it the moment his eyes fell on Jack. Mark swept forward and gingerly pulled Jack into a loose embrace. He pressed his face into Jack’s stiff hair. “I’m here, I’m here, _you’re here._ Fuck, Jack, you’re okay.”

“ _Mark…_ ” Jack let himself be embraced, let himself sag against Mark’s shoulder and for just a minute, indulge in _being_ comforted instead of doing the comforting. He took a deep breath of Mark’s scent, so much more comforting from Mark’s skin than from his hoodie, and closed his eyes. He was home. He was safe. _Mark_ was safe.

Jack lifted his battered face off Mark’s shoulder to look him over. His left hand touched Mark’s swollen lip, and his own mouth wobbled. “You got hurt…” In the background, Marzia and Felix snuck out of the room while Mark and Jack were too wrapped up in each other to really notice.

Mark winced, then he reached up to grab Jack’s hand. His face softened. “He got hurt more. And I stopped him from hurting you any worse. From… from taking you away from me. From the world.” Mark kissed at Jack’s fingers and kept his free arm looped securely around Jack’s waist. “You should sit down. How doped up are you?”

“But I promised I’d keep you safe…” Jack looked down at their hands, at Mark’s bandaged fingers, and he sniffed. All this time, all these months, two _hundred_ days, and he failed to actually keep Mark safe when Mark was _genuinely_ in danger. Jack had actually _put_ Mark in danger with his screams. He reached up with his splinted right hand to wipe at his eyes, banging the splint into the puffy bruise beneath his eye from when his nose broke, and winced. A tear fell. “I promised…”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Mark shushed and released Jack’s good hand to gently take his splinted one. He coaxed the appendage away from Jack’s bruised face. “C’mon, don’t. Medic already scolded me about the gauze. Let’s get some tissues, c’mon.” He urged Jack over to join him on the edge of the bed and passed him some tissues from a box on the end table. His arm returned naturally around Jack’s waist and he took up the injured hand again. “Careful. Don’t press too hard.”

Mark took a breath. “You did keep me safe, Jack. You kept me safe _all this time._ I don’t care about getting hurt if it means helping you. I don’t care about getting hurt if it puts any one of those assholes behind bars. Don’t ever regret calling my name, or screaming for help. _Don’t._ Because if you didn’t, Jack, you could be… could be…You could be _dead,_ Jack. If you didn’t scream for me. Don’t you dare regret having a will to live.”

“I don’t think he would’ve stuffed me in the toilet if I hadn’t screamed,” Jack said, staring at his knees. He dabbed gently at his eyes, leaning in against Mark before stiffening and pulling back. “ _Fuck_. He stuffed me in a toilet, Mark. I’m all gross. They washed my face, but… I’m all gross.”

“You don’t know that,” Mark murmured, but pulled back when Jack did.

Maybe Jack was a little more medicated than he had originally thought. He sighed, closing his eyes, then snuck a glance at Mark. “I wanna shower. Clean clothes. You.”

Mark nodded. “Okay. Well, you’ve got me here. Let’s work on the other two. Did they say you were okay to shower? We could try a bath if you’re worried about collapsing…”

“I can take my splint off. And they said it’s okay if my nose gets wet.” Jack sighed and pushed himself to his feet. “Don’t wanna bath. That’s just soaking in my own toilet water. From my head. I need…” Clothes. He had unpacked a little. His pyjamas were in the drawer. Jack pulled them out, then looked back at Mark. “Will you come with me?”

Mark stood and placed his hand on Jack’s back, purposefully pressing over the tattoo. “I’ll come. Just... might need to turn around before you get in, that’s all. C’mon. You’ll probably feel better under the hot water anyway.”

Jack smiled at Mark and nodded. “That’s okay. Just don’t want… don’t want you far away. Not right now. Not after…”

Mark knew. He’d been there. He’d beaten up the guy. Jack nodded again and headed for the bathroom. He turned on the shower as hot as he could stand and peeled his splint off, grimacing at how dark and swollen his right hand already was. He stuck both hands under the spray to rinse them off, even though he’d washed them at the hospital, and then gathered up a stack of standard hotel-sized towels (meaning too small to properly wrap up in, unless you were a beanpole like Jack). Only then did he look back at Mark, fiddling with the strings on the hoodie again. “I, uh, so I’m gonna… get undressed now…”

Mark breathed in through his nose and turned around. “You’re good. Just let me know when you’re in the shower. I’ll be right here until you’re ready to leave the bathroom.”

Jack unzipped the hoodie and folded it neatly, setting it on the sink. That was Mark’s. He stretched out the neck of the t-shirt to get it over his bandaged nose and let it drop to the floor. That wasn’t so important. Neither were the sweats. He pulled the drawstring loose and shoved them and his briefs down his hips and stepped out, leaving them where they pooled on the floor. He didn’t look down. He knew what he’d see. He could _feel_ it.

Pushing the shower curtain aside, Jack stepped in. Immediately, the hot spray wrapped him in soothing steam, and Jack sighed in relief. “Okay,” he said. “I’m in.” He moved to just stand in the stream, letting the shower rinse away the lingering funk of the toilet and also most of the cloudiness from his head.

"How are you holding up?" Jack finally asked, sighing in pleasure at the hot water rolling down his back. "Physically. How're your hands? Your face?" He lifted his own hands, finding the bar of soap he’d used this morning and soaping up his arms and chest.

"...fine,” Mark answered from the other side of the curtain. “Paramedic said they're gonna bruise really bad but I didn't break anything since I knew how to punch right. They're sore, I guess. Mostly numb from the ice. My mouth’ll be fine too once the swelling goes down. Otherwise it’s just bruises. He mostly hit my stomach."

"All those self-defense videos really paid off." Jack reached for the shampoo, working it into a thick lather in his hair, trying to get all the ick of a public toilet out. It stung the cut on the back of his head, but otherwise, it felt really _good_.

"Heh, yeah, guess so..."

"I'm so fucking proud of you, Mark. _So_ proud. You have no idea." Jack pulled the curtain back enough to peer out at Mark. "If I felt better, I'd thank you a lot more enthusiastically."

Mark sent him a tight smile, leaning against the sink. "Mark?" Jack cocked his head to the side at Mark's expression, then beckoned with his left, unbruised hand. "C'mere?" Mark looked very melancholy. Jack hated that look on his face.

Mark shuffled to Jack without looking at him, his gaze locked on the floor or wall. He stopped a few inches short of the curtain. "I'm okay, Jack. I'm just tired."

Jack cupped Mark's cheek in a wet hand and kissed him gently (mindful of the curtain). "Liar," he murmured, fondness in his voice. The shower was waking him up enough to realize that Mark needed him to be strong again. He _could_ be strong again. He felt so much better just for getting clean and back with Mark. "Mark, you _saved my life_. And you did that by facing down a literal nightmare. You can't tell me that man hasn't haunted your dreams any less than he's haunted mine. I was so sure he was going to kill me and you'd find my body, and I was regretting ever screaming, but you...You didn't hesitate, Mark. You didn't _panic_. And if that's not something to be proud of..."

"I'd do anything to keep you safe." Mark's voice was deep and rough with emotions. He reached up to take the hand on his cheek into both of his own. His eyes were haunted again the way they used to be, when the shadows were obvious and heavy. "I didn't even have to think. I just acted. And I almost killed that man, Jack, I was almost on his level because he was trying to kill you. We both know he was. If it wasn't for Felix dragging me back I don't... I don't know what would have happened. I just kept punching him..."

 _"No,"_ Jack said firmly, rubbing his thumb over Mark's beard. "No, you were nowhere _near_ his level, Mark. He was trying to kill me because it was _fun_. Because he was getting off on it. He was _enjoying_ it." Jack had felt the evidence pressed against his ass the entire time he was drowning. "You were trying to kill him to protect me. And yourself. You weren't getting off on his pain...And if Felix weren't there, I know you would've stopped anyway. Because I needed help. And you're always there when I need you." Jack kissed Mark again, still gentle. "But most importantly, Mark...You're glad you _didn't_ kill him. He's upset he didn't kill me. That's the difference that matters."

Jack wanted to nuzzle against Mark, but he didn't. That would be stupid. He wanted to hug Mark, but he didn't. He sighed and kissed Mark again. "Unless you want to join me in here so I can hold you without worrying about getting you all wet, I should probably finish up. Because I need to hold you."

Mark pulled away. "I don't... think that's a good idea, right now. I'll go wait on the bed for you. If you need anything, any help at all, just shout. I'm serious," Mark quipped before retreating from the bathroom.

"Okay," Jack said, letting Mark pull away. "Leave the door open."  
  
Jack finished up in the shower quickly. His head had been his biggest concern. They'd washed his face thoroughly at the hospital, but his hair had been beyond them. The rest of his body just needed a quick scrub and rinse, and then he shut off the water and wrapped a towel around himself.  
  
After getting dressed, Jack brushed his teeth and ran a comb through his hair as if he'd have any success in taming the bedhead that was sure to emerge with immediately crawling into bed with wet hair. He didn't really care. It was far more important to flip off the lights and dump the hospital clothes by his suitcase before climbing onto the bed beside Mark and slipping his arm around the other man's waist. He didn't say anything at first, just set his cheek against Mark's shoulder and closed his eyes.

Mark didn't immediately say anything either. He turned his head to seek comfort in the wet green hair. One of his arms moved to wrap around Jack and squeezed the smaller man close. Protectively. Needily. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't come sooner, Jack. I knew you were taking too long but I didn't want to cling. I didn't want to be paranoid. I wanted to trust everything would be okay this time and... and it wasn't. It wasn't, and I'm sorry. That you had to go through that too..."

Jack turned to press a kiss to the side of Mark's neck, careful of his nose. It was supported and straight now, but that didn't mean he couldn't still bump it and regret his life immensely. "I have such a huge new respect for you and everything you survived, Mark. Three months of that, of worse?" Jack gave a shudder, then kissed Mark's neck again. "But it's okay. It's going to _be_ okay. Once all the bruises fade, it'll be like nothing ever happened, except that the world is a safer place."

"We'll probably have to go to his trial. To testify against him."

"Are you going to be able to do that? If they bring up the other time? Am _I_ , if I'm back in Ireland? Or does that just give me another excuse to fly out here?"

"I don't know, I don't know, but if we don't..." Mark shook his head. "Jack. You don't have to act like everything is okay. You know that, right? I'm not... I'm not gonna lose faith in you or see you as weaker because of what happened. I'm not. That would be hypocritical of me. It doesn't get better like a bruise or broken bone and I'm so, so sorry you have to deal with this now." His voice cracked and he once again buried his face in Jack's hair.

Jack pulled away from Mark but only so he could catch Mark's face between his hands (the right one splinted again) and kiss him, soft at first, but then firmer, more insistent. "Mark, I'm going to be _fine_. I mean, yeah, maybe I'll think twice about using a public bathroom on my own, but that's not impossible to live with. Women go to the bathroom in groups all the time. There's nothing else...The doctor even said my nose probably won't even have a bump if I'm careful..." Jack drew back again to look at Mark's face, frowning slightly. "...that's not what you're talking about?" Mark seemed completely devastated, like Jack was irreparably broken because of one terrifying afternoon. That seemed like a bit of an overreaction to a broken nose and countless bruises.

Mark kissed Jack and it was so deep the apology could still be felt on his lips. Both his arms had found their way around Jack's waist; ever protective. His voice was still choked up. "Jack. It's okay. You don't... you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I understand. I just want you to know that I'm here. And I'll support you the same way you did for me. We can... we can go back to square one, if we have to. Or nothing at all. Whatever you're comfortable with."

"Mark?" Jack shifted, moving to straddle Mark's legs (fully clothed, not pressing close to Mark's body, should be okay). "Mark, okay, it's been a pretty wild day and I know I'm still a little doped up from the drugs they gave me, so can you...can you be blunt with me just to make sure I'm not misunderstanding? You're not talking about my nose...so what _are_ you talking about?" A broken nose and slight public bathroom phobia wouldn't put them at square one anywhere. What did Mark mean?

“Jack-” Mark leaned back. His face had paled with slight fear and concern _._ “Jack. You don’t… you don’t have to… L-look, I get it, you don’t want to bring it up. You don’t want to think about it, I’m sorry, I just… I’m so sorry he violated you like that, that he took it from you. That it had to be your first experience, l-like me, it’s wrong. It’s so _fucking_ wrong and I never, ever wanted you to have the ability to understand but now you do and it’s all that asshole’s fault, if I’d just caved to my nerves and been _fucking_ ** _faster-_** ” He hiccuped, then, and a dry sob petered out as he stared at Jack with pure pity and empathy.

Violated? Took it? _First experience_? Jack’s eyes went wide and he immediately was shaking his head, reaching for Mark’s shoulders. “Oh god, Mark, no, _no_ , he didn’t...he _didn’t_!” No wonder Mark was looking so devastated, if he thought Jack had been, if he’d thought that asshole had actually managed to…

Jack closed his eyes and shivered, remembering how for a moment he wished he _had_ been, just so he didn’t end up dead in a toilet for Mark to find. “He tried,” Jack explained. “He _tried_ , Mark, and he, he sorta...groped me? Sorta? I mean, I was at the urinal and he came up behind me but my hand was already there, so…” Jack waved his splinted hand, peeking at Mark. “Yeeeeah. And he was going to, in the stall, but...he told me to be quiet, or else everyone would see and know, and I just…” Jack’s expression was sober as he reached up to trail his fingers over Mark’s cheek. “Everyone saw you,” he whispered. “And you...you survived. Your _community_ survived, continued to embrace you, and I just...I had faith that mine would do the same. So I screamed, and he decided shutting me up was more important than getting it in. And then when he had me pretty pinned on the ground, I think he wanted to try again, but you came charging in yourself and...yeah. I’m a bit groped and a bit skeeved out, but I’m _fine_ , Mark, I swear I am. I swear he didn’t...he _didn’t_.”

Mark stared at him. “You… he didn’t? _He didn’t?_ ** _Really??_** But I thought- wh-when I got in there, and I saw you, you had… he was…” Mark babbled broken bits of thoughts and sentences for several agonizing seconds before blinking wildly and exhaling something dangerously close to a laugh. “H-he… he never got it in. He _never got it in??_ I- I can’t… that’s… that, you’re… **_Jack._** ” His face was lighting up with relief, with joy, with love and affection as he finally lifted his hands from the bed to cup at Jack’s cheeks. He kept his touch gentle but leaned in to kiss the other with a sort of giddy fervor. He pecked at Jack’s lips a few more times, quick and breathless, before brushing their cheeks together. Nosing at Jack’s ear, his sideburn; trailing down to his jaw to press another kiss. “I love you.”

“You stopped him both times,” Jack said, returning as many of Mark’s kisses as he could manage, wrapping his arms around Mark’s shoulders as Mark covered him in kisses. “First in my head, then in reality, and _thank you_ , Mark, thank you, you saved my life and...heh, and my ass. Literally.”

Mark wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist and tugged him closer. He snorted gently against the little patch of skin beneath Jack’s ear. “Really, Jack? That’s how low you’re gonna go?” He shook his head. His fingers skirted up and down on either side of Jack’s spine. Mark trailed his lips along Jack’s jaw. He slipped down Jack’s neck to flit across the pulse point, the jugular, the bobbing Adam’s apple. Occasionally, he would give a firmer press of his lips; squeezing intermittently at Jack’s back with his fingertips.

“You know you love my ass,” Jack said, tipping his head back. He gave a little wiggle of said ass on Mark’s lap, squeezing his arms tight as Mark pulled him even closer.

Jack closed his eyes, reveling in Mark’s lips against his skin. He dared to shift a little closer on Mark’s legs, wanting his boyfriend to hold him tighter after this insane day. “I love _you_ , Mark, so much, so much, thank you. I love you.” He didn’t dare to chase Mark’s lips with his own, not wanting to risk bumping his fragile nose, but he did kiss Mark’s floofy hair as Mark’s mouth continued to wander, his hands spreading over Mark’s broad back.

“I love you more than anyone.” Mark nosed back up the other side of Jack’s jaw to kiss at his ear, his voice a quiet murmur. “I love you, love you so much I’d do almost anything for you, anything to keep you safe. I don’t want you to _ever_ go through anything I did. **_Anything._** ” Mark kissed at his cheek. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Mark’s lips were chasing away the tension of the day, helping the last coils unwind and slip out of Jack’s body. He was safe. _They_ were safe. Felix and Marzia were safe. The actual kidnapper was in police custody, and no one was going to hurt them. No one was going to break into their room. It was just the two of them, together, for the rest of the night, and Mark murmuring love into Jack’s ear and making him melt against his chest. He whined Mark’s name softly, turning his head to catch Mark’s lips again. “Don’t ever think I feel any less about you,” he insisted. “Don’t ever think I have been anything but thrilled to have you in my life in any capacity. I love you, Mark Fischbach.”

“Never claimed otherwise.” Mark’s fingers trailed a bit further down, but he stopped short of groping Jack, instead hooking his thumbs in the waistband of Jack’s pants. He kissed Jack in retaliation; deeply and passionately. _“Never.”_ Another kiss. “I never would. I know you love me, Jack. I know I make you happy. And I’m so _glad_ that I can. That you let me into your life like this.” Their lips met, again, and this time Mark parted his just enough to brush the tip of his tongue across the crease of Jack’s mouth. His lids were drooping heavily and there was barely an inch separating their faces at that point. “I love you, Sean McLoughlin. And don’t you ever forget it.” Mark shivered as Jack whined his name. “That’s cheating,” he sing-songed.

Mark may have stopped from groping Jack’s ass, but he did stop his hands over the _MF_ etched into Jack’s skin. He sucked in his breath, knowing Mark did that on purpose. “It’s not _cheating_ if you’re the one making me make the noises…”

“I’m not _making_ you do anything, you’re just sensitive.” Mark countered in a soft tone, lightly tracing the letters through the material of Jack’s shirt.

Jack loved having Mark’s initials on him. He loved having _any_ mark of Mark’s on him. Bruises were some of his favorites, bruises caused by Mark’s mouth, or his fingers clinging too hard in the heat of the moment. Jack was wearing someone else’s bruises now. Last night had been for soft kisses and cuddling. Mark hadn’t devoured him like he used to. Neither had Jack. They had moved slowly, figuring it was best to get reacquainted with being physically present first.

Despite Mark’s kisses, deep and delicious, Jack’s smile was slowly fading. His fingers trailed down Mark’s back, seeking out the SM scar. “Mark…?”

Mark kept kissing at Jack’s jaw and neck when Jack stopped meeting his mouth. “Mm?” He had a mouthful of Jack’s skin and so words escaped him; but he gave a muffled hum to show he was listening.

Jack felt a little better for Mark’s fingers tracing the letters, acknowledging his claim, but it wasn’t enough. He tilted his head to the side, knowing he had bruises around the sides and back of his neck from where he’d been grabbed and shoved into the wall, into the toilet. “Mark, I’ve got marks.” He bit his lip, tracing the SM with one finger.

“Pff. Was that supposed to be a…”

“They’re not yours…”

Mark swallowed hard. “...oh.”

Jack knew now (thanks to Mark) that he had a thing for light bruises on his skin. He hadn’t realized until just now that that did not extend to bruises left by other people. Only Mark could lay such a claim to his body. Only Mark. It didn’t feel right to have discolorations that hadn’t been caused by Mark’s passion (or Jack’s own clumsiness).

“Can you...” Jack squirmed a little in Mark’s lap, pressing his neck against his boyfriend’s mouth. “Harder?”

Rather than supply a verbal answer, Mark found one of the lighter bruises on Jack’s neck and nipped at the skin there. He pulled the patch between his lips to suck on it gently. Jack groaned. There was a little ache as Mark sucked, but it was more than overridden by the _relief_ that was caused by his teeth and the suction of his lips. Mark’s fingers dug in through Jack’s light pants, and Jack arched his back, holding tight to Mark as he leaned into the kiss. He was still sore from the day, knew he would be sore for a while, but if he could tie his soreness to _Mark_ and not to the other man, it would be a good sore.

Logically, Jack knew there was only so much Mark would be able to do to overwrite his bruises. He shouldn’t kiss anywhere near Jack’s broken nose, and it wasn’t like he could leave hickies on black eyes or sprained fingers. Mark also probably wasn’t ready to even _see_ Jack’s dick, much less do anything for the bruises there...and Jack didn’t think he actually wanted Mark to bruise such a sensitive area. Neck, though, neck could be Mark’s territory, and maybe some of the bruises on his legs. And new ones across his hips…

Yes, _logically_ there was only so much Mark could do for him, but Jack was grateful his body didn’t give two shits about logic and only cared about Mark’s fingers marking his skin, his mouth marking his neck.

Mark squeezed hard at Jack’s hips; traveling up and down along his ribs with rough swipes of his palms. He let the bit of skin snap back and scraped his teeth across to a larger bruise. This time he didn’t hesitate. He sunk his teeth straight in. Laved at the skin there with his tongue but held off on the suction.

 _That_ bite earned Mark a gasp and a sharp jerk of Jack’s hips. He could feel Mark shifting beneath him, the tensing of his thighs that was a sure sign he was aroused and trying to fight it. _Fuck that._ Jack gripped at Mark’s back and pulled himself tight against his boyfriend, feeling Mark’s erection beneath him. While this position was fairly rare, it wasn’t the first time Jack had ground against Mark’s cock. As long as everything stayed covered, Mark’s chances of getting triggered were low. Only when layers started to disappear did they have to really be more careful.

“Yessss, just like that…”

Jack’s coaxing summoned up a deep-chested groan from Mark that thrummed along the flesh in his mouth. Mark’s hands were still moving, coasting down past hips to thighs and squeezing again, kneading bruised and unbruised skin alike. “Jack…” Mark panted his name against wet skin and gave the light indents another lick. Then he was swooping in again; reclaiming another spot with teeth and tongue and just the barest hint of a needy growl. _“Jack…”_

Jack rolled his hips against Mark, his head fallen to the side as he whined with every scrape of Mark’s teeth, moaning whenever Mark sucked on his skin. Mark’s fingers traced fire through his clothes, and Jack could already picture the bruises he’d have in the morning, Mark’s fingertips seared into his flesh. “Fuck, Mark, more, I want more…”

“ _Ahhh-_ fuck!” Mark’s mouth popped off Jack’s skin so he could suck in a sharp inhale. He rocked his hips up against Jack, growing more bold with his upwards thrusting as Jack consistently pushed down against him. The only thing keeping Jack steady in Mark’s lap was the grips of their hands.

With every sound Jack made, Mark bit again or sucked harder. Each bite, in turn, drove Jack’s hips down against Mark, whining and pleading, his fingers digging into Mark’s shoulders. Mark was crushing the tops of Jack’s thighs in his strong hands, sure to leave bruises, and then slid his hands inward to repeat the gesture. Mark gripped and pushed until Jack had no choice but to rock back onto his ass.

Jack wanted _more_ , more of that mouth and touch, more friction from their bodies pressed together. He wanted less clothing between them, but more, _more_ of Mark. Jack quivered beneath Mark’s strong fingers, wishing his right hand wasn’t so bound up right now so he could return the favor across Mark’s back, digging his fingers in just over Mark’s hips as Mark spread him open, his hands moving _in_ and _up_ and _almost there_ …

Almost there and then Mark pulled away, pulled at Jack’s leg and stretching him wider. Jack keened his disappointment as he fell against Mark’s arm, trusting his boyfriend to keep him from a graceless tumble. He wailed as Mark bit into his shoulder through his shirt, _hard_ , barely remembering that they were in a hotel room with much thinner walls than the old Irish cottage they’d both grown to love. It was far more important to let Mark know that even as he twitched in pleasure, wiggling against Mark’s hold and straining to get better contact against his throbbing dick, he was also crying his need for _more_. “Fuck, Mark, _fuck_ , please, please…” _Fuck_ ** _me_** _…_ Jack leaned back more against Mark’s arm, trying to spread his legs even further than Mark was pushing him, trying to invite him to do something, do something _more_. He managed to turn his head to press his cheek to Mark’s hair, panting into the black strands as Mark _bit_ him, reminding Jack of how much he _loved_ Mark marking him. “Love you…”

Jack couldn’t even really rock his hips in this position Mark was holding him in, only managing another unsatisfying wiggle and moan as Mark sank his teeth into Jack’s other shoulder. It wasn’t the _pain_ he was getting off on, as he tried to explain to Mark before, but it _was_ the ache, the throb that let him know he’d still be seeing the ghost of Mark’s affection on his skin days later.

Mark _growled_ into Jack’s arm, biting down hard as he could into Jack’s other shoulder to stifle the sound. Mark released his mouth’s hold and leaned back enough that he could adjust his grip on Jack’s body. “Shhh, Sean, shhh. I’ve got you. I’m gonna take care of you, all right?? I love you. I love you, Sean, just hang on…”

Jack was practically sobbing in frustration as Mark finally pulled back, his own fingers digging into Mark’s back as he squirmed and wriggled. Mark tightened his grip, twisted in his seat and dropped Jack onto his back across the bedspread before he was clambering up onto the sheets to slide between Jack’s legs. Mark wasted no time in spreading them apart at the knees again as he hovered over Jack with dark eyes and flushed cheeks. His own knees were tucked beneath either of Jack’s spread thighs; propping Jack’s lower half up a few inches. He squeezed at Jack’s calves. “I can’t have sex with you, Sean, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. But I can still get you off- I can get _us_ off. Just lay back and let me...”

 _Finally_ Jack could at least thrust up properly now, digging his heels into the mattress for some purchase. He reached for his own erection, squeezing briefly as Mark crawled up between his legs, but no, _no_ , Mark was better, Mark with his dark eyes and flushed skin, his mouth swollen from the ferocity of his bites, pants stretched tight against the straining cock beneath. Jack forced his hand away, reaching lower to grab his own thighs and hold himself open for his lover. “Jesus, Mark, I’ve never _cared_ about that, just please, _please_ …!” Jack didn’t want his own hand anymore. He didn’t care what part of Mark he got, if Mark touched him or ground against him or _fuck_ even just thrust _against_ his ass, both of them fully clothed. He didn’t _care_ , he was beyond caring. He just wanted _Mark_.

Mark took a moment to just watch Jack. _“Sean.”_ He said Jack’s name in a low, gravelly tone that rumbled from his chest with nothing but pure desire and arousal. He pressed his hands to the ones holding Jack’s legs open; pushed them further, held them to their limits while he leaned in. His mouth connected with Jack’s in a kiss that was too little breath and too much saliva, but neither of them really cared. Mark took a good half minute just devouring Jack’s lips and tongue while delving into his mouth as if he’d never been there before.

That _voice_ , that damn voice, how it rumbled out of Mark’s chest and was _so_ much better in person despite their high-quality audio equipment, that voice _always_ made Jack forget how to breathe and his dick throb in his pants. It was good Mark stole Jack’s gaping mouth just then, because Jack had no better use for it than to kiss back until his lungs restarted and Mark had pulled away, cold fingers pushing his shirt up and making Jack shiver as they ran over his bare skin and up into his hair. He shivered again as he felt traces of cold water from the melting ice drip across his chest, a sharp counterpoint to the heat between their legs.

Jack had just managed to thrust up, brushing briefly against Mark’s body, before Mark was moving away, his mouth skipping over the mountain of crumpled t-shirt to a sensitive nipple. Jack whined as soon as those lips made contact, knowing what was coming next, anticipating it, and still jerking as Mark bit down, crying out his pleasure. His dick brushed against Mark’s, but only for a moment, just a moment, and Mark was pushing against his chest, tugging at his nipples with mouth and fingers, his other hand firmly in Jack’s hair, and all Jack could do was gasp Mark’s name, and _more_ , and _please_. His own fingers dug into the trembling muscles of his thighs, forcing himself to stay spread open for Mark even as he had to shut his eyes against the onslaught of sensations sweeping his body. “ _Maaaark!_ ”

 _“Sean.”_ It was muffled by the fact Mark still had his mouth full of Jack’s chest. He was sucking a fresh bruise into Jack’s pectoral while his teeth nipped and tugged at the nipple there. His fingers had tweaked the other a few times before traveling down, dragging nails and hard fingertips over ribs and abdominal muscles. He slid the heel of his palm back up; drawing goosebumps in his wake. Then Mark’s mouth left the newest hickey with an audibly wet “pop”. Mark’s breath skirted over the damp skin to create a chill. “Sean…”

Mark thrust back against Jack a few times. He took a minute just to scatter quick bites and nibbles across the smooth planes of Jack’s abdomen, but then he drew back to reach for one of Jack’s thighs. He laced their fingers together and _pushed_ , pressing forward until Jack’s leg was bent as far up as his hip allowed. Jack shivered and panted, letting Mark manhandle him, coaxing his hand off his other leg. Jack didn’t need much of an invitation to finally let go of his legs, his hips aching as Mark stretched him wider. Mark eased Jack’s leg down and curled his own over it, locking their lower halves together and pressing their erections tight as Mark leaned forward. One experimental thrust of his hips set him to groaning low and deep against Jack’s neck. He kept rolling, grinding into Jack over and over.

Mark’s bruised and crooked fingers dug into Jack’s shirt, tugging the collar aside to expose his shoulder. “Sean, Sean, fuck… f-fuck, I love you, I love you so much Sean _hhhh_ please, Sean, hold me please, fuck, touch me _mmnnngh…_ ” He whined at the very bottom of his throat.

Jack latched onto Mark’s waist, shoving his hands under Mark’s shirt and dragging his nails up the other man’s back. “Mark, fuck, _Mark_ , I need, I’m gonna, _Mark!_ ” Jack shuddered and groaned as they rocked together, finding a rhythm in their hips that was uniquely _theirs_.

And then Mark was biting down on Jack’s bare skin and _God_ , all of this was _exactly_ what he’d been missing the past two months where he could only Skype with Mark and not actually feel him, heavy weight pressing down, pinning Jack to the bed, their cocks dragging together, Mark’s teeth bruising Jack’s skin. Jack dug his fingers into Mark’s shoulderblades, crying out as he seized up beneath his lover, his vision whiting out as he came harder than he had in _weeks_ , despite still being trapped in his pants.

Mark had to brace himself with his elbow to avoid collapsing over Jack. He pulled away from Jack’s shoulder, running his tongue over his teeth and lips. “Sean. Sean, I know this is gonna sound crazy and maybe hard ‘cause you’re all boneless and stupid right now but I need to know you can hear me, okay? Do you understand what I’m saying right now? Can you nod for me, Sean?” Though breathless, Mark’s voice and tone were even as he murmured to Jack, ever so slowly letting Jack’s leg drop back to the bed.

Jack was panting beneath Mark, kneading his grip on Mark’s shoulders as he shivered and melted into the mattress. Mark was still talking, still so hard against him. Jack closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose before nodding for Mark. Of course he could hear Mark. And understand him. Mark’s voice wrapped around his brain through the delightful fog of his mind, and Jack tried to say as much, but it mostly came out sounding like “ _Nnrgh…_ ”

Yeah. Real articulate there. Jack huffed a laugh and dragged his nails down Mark’s back. Boneless was a good description for him right now. He opened his eyes and smiled up at Mark. “Wha...what do you need?” Anything Mark wanted right now, _anything_ , Jack would do for him. His fingers caught on the raised scar of the S and Jack shivered.

Mark shivered in near perfect sync with Jack and his hips twitched forward. A needy sound was caught up in his throat. “S-Sean. I… I need… I _want_ you to touch me,” Mark panted through slightly gritted teeth. _“Here.”_ Only then did he shift down, just a little, just enough to press his erection against the solid girth of Jack’s thigh with a whimper. Mark stared down at Jack; eyes dark and wet. “I want you. I need you. I _need_ you to do this, Sean, _please._ We need to try. I _w-want_ to try.”

Jack’s eyes widened with understanding at Mark’s words, his already shaky breath catching again in his throat. What Mark was asking for, wanting… Jack licked his lips, letting his hands trail down to Mark’s hips. He squeezed gently, watching Mark’s face. “Over?” he asked. “O-or...under?”

He’d touched Mark’s erection before, palming his shaft as he sucked on the head through Mark’s underwear, groping him through jeans and boxers while kissing him stupid. Over was nothing new, nothing to warrant such nervous _need_ in Mark’s face. Jack was suspecting Mark was asking for him to reach beneath the safety of his pants, but he couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ without Mark’s explicit permission. Even blissed-out and orgasm-stupid, he wasn’t _that_ much of an idiot.

 _“Sean.”_ Another whine; higher pitched than his usual voice and desperate. Mark stared Jack down beneath his floof, over the rims of low-resting glasses, his look intense and soul-searing. “ _Sean._ I need you to touch me. **_Now._** _Please._ Touch me there, inside, just one touch that’s all I need, Godfuck, _please Sean I need you._ I love you. L-let me show you, how much I love you.” His voice cracked at the end from the strain but he held firm with lips pressed tightly together and brows furrowed.

“Mark…” Jack wanted to pull Mark into a kiss, but the only way to do that right now would involve getting his hands in Mark’s hair, and he didn’t want to risk _anything_ with what Mark was actually asking for. He lifted his right hand to reach for Mark, but remembered his splint. That would be uncomfortable for Mark at best...and Jack really didn’t want to hold a dick with that hand right now. He put it back on Mark’s hip and moved his left hand instead, trailing his fingers along the waistband of Mark’s pants to the front.

The muscles there tensed on reflex but Mark didn’t flinch back or pull away. “Love you… more than anything, more than _anyone…_ Sean…” he whispered. He was still as breathless as before.

“I love you,” Jack whispered, still struggling to breathe as he stared into those brown eyes. “Mark, _fuck_ , I love you so much…” He pressed his fingers beneath the waistband, finding Mark’s underwear beneath and bypassing those too. A little shiver of arousal ran through him at the thought of touching such a forbidden area, but Jack was still too spent from his orgasm to feel anything other than a pleasant prickle down his spine. He kept his eyes on Mark’s face, focusing as best he could, looking for _any_ sign of discomfort as he finally, _finally_ , curled his fingers around Mark’s throbbing dick. Mark wasn’t panicking, it didn’t _look_ like he was panicking, so Jack squeezed gently and dragged his hand up to the tip, moaning at the feel of another man’s erection in his hand for the first time.

Jack knew Mark wouldn’t last long, not with how tight they’d both been wound. He wasn’t at all surprised to feel Mark come with one stroke, and as Mark collapsed against his chest with a series of soft moans, Jack wrapped his right arm around his lover’s back and held him, rubbing gently down his spine. “Oh god, Mark, so good, you’re so amazing, so fucking _incredible_ , I love you so much…” He craned his neck so he could kiss just at the top of Mark’s head, more in his hair than on his scalp, keeping his left hand tucked into Mark’s pants as Mark shuddered out his orgasm. “I’ve got you, Mark, I’ve got you, you’re here with me, you’re safe, you’re loved, I love you, so, _so_ much. So much.”

Mark groaned again. The jittery tension eked out of his muscles with every declaration and he relaxed on top of Jack. “I love you… I love you, Sean, thank you…. Thank you so much…” His voice was a tired drawl, thick and sleepy.

“I love you, Mark.” Jack eased his hand out from Mark’s pants, his fingers sticky from Mark’s cum. (He wanted to taste it. He resisted). He curled both his arms around Mark’s back, tugging gently to get him a little higher against his chest. “Come here, come here, let me kiss you better…” He pressed kisses against Mark’s hair and forehead, cuddling the other man against him. His pants were sticky, and Mark’s undoubtedly the same. His hand was sticky, but he was wiping it on Mark’s shirt (sorry Mark). It was all good. It would all be okay. “I love you. Always.” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and settling into the mattress. Screw the mess. They could deal with it in the morning. “ _Always_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	62. Evening 291: Bubble Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you don’t have tea, use bubbles to relax.

They didn’t go to the convention the next day. After an early lunch, the four YouTubers went to see a movie together. In the dark, they weren’t recognized, and Jack even let his head rest on Mark’s shoulder in the privacy of the back row of the theater. They found a candy store on their way back, and Jack _had_ to go in.

After dinner, the two couples split up again, and Jack dropped his bags of American treats by his suitcase, grimacing as he sank onto the bed. “I _ache_ ,” he groaned, leaning forward to rub at his legs. “Nngh, this fucking _sucks_ …”

Mark didn’t bother with sitting. He collapsed face-first onto the bed beside Jack with a muffled grunt. He let his arms splay out to the sides while half his legs hung haphazardly over the edge of the bed. He echoed Jack’s groan. “It feels like all my abs and ribs got together in unholy matrimony to cause me absolute _misery._ They’re protesting, Jack. Protesting how I loved you last night; the homophobes. Sorry I couldn’t help you with the candy bags.”

“The day I can’t carry my own candy is the day I don’t deserve any,” Jack assured Mark. He reached over to push Mark’s shirt up, though, tracing the SM on his back. He hadn’t really _looked_ at it since they were reunited. Mark was usually facing him. It was just as ugly as ever. Jack loved it still. He was so glad that he had gotten Mark’s initials on his back. It allowed him to cherish this part of his boyfriend instead of being horrified by it.

“That sounds like something you'd get off a fortune cookie,” Mark teased. He turned his head to press the cheek he didn't have a bruise forming on against the covers so he could look at Jack.

Jack took a breath. “Mark?” He had an idea, but he wasn’t sure if Mark would be interested. (He _knew_ Mark would be interested, but he didn’t know if Mark’s anxiety would allow him.) “What if we took a hot bath to soak our aches?” He traced the letters again, watching Mark sigh and close his eyes. “Together. The tub is big enough.” This was one of the nicest hotels in the city, and the bathroom reflected the luxury. Jack hadn’t thought the size of a hotel bathtub was ever going to be important in his life, but go figure. “Or separately.” Even now, he gave Mark choices. “It’d just be more relaxing if you were there too.”

“Hm?” The offer finally had Mark dragging himself up. He grunted but managed to work his elbows up under him. “You wanna bathe together? I… a bath does sound fucking awesome right about now. And I would rather take one _with_ you than just be stuck soaking alone, but… Jack. You know I still haven't… your….” Mark gestured with his hand a little and bit at his split lip. Instantly, he hissed and flinched from his own habitual idiocy. “Ow, _fuck!_ Fuck it, fuck it, I mean your dick. Your dick, Jack, I haven't….” He released a shuddering sigh. “...I really want to try, but water is super transparent, Jack. I don't know if I could…”

Jack leaned down to kiss Mark's sore lip gently. “Perks of such a nice hotel? They have tiny bubble bath bottles.” Jack had seen the bottle beside the tub when he first checked out the room. At the time, he had scoffed at the idea of taking a bubble bath at a hotel. But now? Now a blanket of bubbles could be the perfect cover for a relaxing bath with his boyfriend. “I'm gonna do it anyway.” He kissed Mark again. “If you want to join me, I'll close my eyes while you get in. No dicks have to be seen.”

“Bubbles…?” Mark carefully pushed himself up into a sitting position. “...we go slow. And we're _really_ careful. With the touching part, I.. I might be able to get over it, once we’re settled in. But you have to let me lead the pace of things. It'll be the only control I have. And.. and we have stuff ready in case I get anxious and need to pull out. Okay?”

“I'll sit in front of you,” Jack decided. So you can put me where you need me. And we'll have lots of towels, and if you need to stop, I'll close my eyes.” Jack kissed Mark one more time and climbed off the bed, grinning as he gathered clean pyjamas. “I'll call you when it's ready!” Mark sighed and shook his head at Jack’s excited enthusiasm.

The bathroom wasn't so scary today, but Jack let the door open anyway. He wasn't so worried about being attacked, or about Mark disappearing. Jack dumped his stuff on the floor and started running the water. He plugged the tub, then dumped the entire bottle of bubble bath in. Almost immediately, thick white foam that smelled like coconut started filling the tub. Jack giggled and eased his shirt off. He chucked it and his pants to the side, then climbed in. Once the foam was high enough to hide his bruised lower half, Jack called to Mark.

“You can come in!”

Mark snorted softly and made his way to the bathroom. “What'd you do, dump the whole bottle in? It smells like we got transported to the tropics or something-”

Something about bubbles reverted Jack to a child. He scooped some of the foam up and spread it over his face. When Mark walked into the bathroom, shirtless, Jack leaned his arms on the edge of the tub. “Ho ho ho! Have you been a good boy this year?”

Mark blinked in slight surprise, then burst out laughing. “Huhuhuh oh my fucking god, Jack, you _nerd._ You fucking _toddler._ I can't believe you. How could you bombard me with this level of immaturity? I trusted you! I wasn't prepared for this!” Mark clutched at his bruised, trembling sides with a slight grimace. “Don't play dumb; you _know_ I've been naughty as fuck this year, Santa. You're a very bad influence.”

Jack burst out laughing as well, scooping up more bubbles and blowing them at Mark. “Well then, guess Santa won't bring you presents this year…”

“Good thing you're not the real Santa then ‘cause otherwise I'd call you out on a lie.” Mark smirked even as he rolled his eyes. “You give me _lots_ of presents every day.”

Splashing the bubbles a little more, Jack wiggled deeper in the water. “Wanted to make sure there were _plenty_ of bubbles. Better safe than sorry! Closing my eyes now. Let me know when you're ready.” He folded his arms on the tub edge again and buried his face, beard and all, in the gap, careful of his nose.

(There was still a muffled “ow.”)

Jack could hear Mark removing his jeans and setting them down even with his head buried in his arms. “I think there's more bubbles than water in there. How the heck is that even possible?”

Mark took a deep breath, and then the door clicked shut as he whispered to himself. “I'm coming in,” he finally declared.

It took a lot of careful maneuvering and some jostling, but Mark eventually managed to squeeze himself in behind Jack. Even with a big tub, they were still two full grown men. Jack kept his eyes squeezed shut as the water jostled around him, Mark's wet hands nudging him where he needed to move. Mark was in the tub with him. Mark was _naked_ with him, in the same room, and Jack had to chew his lip a little to remind himself that this was an innocent bath and not anything more.

“Hoho, you can look now, even though Santaplier’s heard you've been a very naughty boy.”

Until Mark broke out _that_ voice. Jack shivered and lifted his head, his own beard having escaped down his chest. This was _not_ going to be an innocent bath if Mark was going to talk like _that_!

Of course, Mark was wearing a foamy Santa beard that was extravagant and bubbly and Jack had to giggle at the sight. “Oh Santaplier, can't I sit on your lap and show you just how _good_ I can be?” He leaned over to blow at Mark's beard, dispersing it across the tub, and grinned.

“Pfffff- see Jackaboy, this is _exactly_ the kind of bad behavior that got you put on the naughty list in the first place. What am I gonna do with you?” Mark giggled.

Mark's legs were bracketing Jack's hips, and Jack reached beneath the bubbles to find them. His fingers found the hard curve of Mark's knees. So he was safely away from Mark's dick, then. But Jack didn't really want to sit up in the tub the whole time. Bubble baths were for lying back and relaxing in. “Failing that, can I just lean back against your chest?” Maybe if Mark tugged him back, controlled it, he'd let Jack press against him.

Mark drew in a deep, steadying breath. His hands came around to find Jack’s biceps, sliding up and down to leave bubbles in his wake. Mark squeezed. “Slow and careful. Light- just try not to move a lot. Or, slide down. Okay? I need.. need to go at a pace I'm comfortable with….”

Jack nodded, and Mark gently pulled Jack back, edging him up between his thighs. As Mark parted his legs around Jack, he sucked in a tight breath, going still. “...talk. Jack, talk, please.”

“It's okay, Mark, it's just me. It's just me, and I'm not going anywhere you're not letting me. You're in control here, Mark. You're in control, and I love you. I love _this_ , it feels so good, the heat in our sore muscles. After a long day together, to just cuddle up in a warm bath, it's just so _nice_. So relaxing. This is all about us feeling good, Mark. If it doesn't feel good, we shouldn't do it. Not tonight.” Jack’s fingers crossed over to pet at Mark's hands on him.

“I wanna use you as a pillow, Mark. I want to rest my head on your shoulder and have you wrap your arms around me, and we can both be warm and together, surrounded by bubbles. So many bubbles.” Jack giggled a little. “We should invest in bubble bath.”

Mark sucked in another breath, then let it out in a heavy sigh. His muscles relaxed as Jack rambled until his grip could loosen as well. He dragged Jack back again in the water, pausing briefly. When Jack just kept talking, Mark sagged and pulled him up to about mid-thigh, then coaxed Jack to lie back against his chest.“We’ll buy a shit ton on the way home- nngh. Okay. There.” Jack was careful and slow as he laid back, bubbles squooshing out from between their bodies until there was nothing left but a thin film of water between them. Mark’s hands slid up to rest at Jack’s shoulders and squeezed again. He kissed the top of Jack’s damp hair. “Better?”

Jack sighed his contentment, closing his eyes and relaxing against Mark's chest. “Mm. I love you. I love this. Thank you, Mark. Thank you hotel for providing bubbles.” He let his hands splash lightly at the foam before relaxing them as well, his hands floating beneath the bubbles, warmth wrapping around him.

Mark smiled. “Love you too. Just relax. I'm okay. Thanks hotel.” He said the words with a light snicker.

They just laid together like that for a handful of minutes. Jack practically dozing off with his hair tickling at Mark’s neck. Mark’s hands pressed to Jack’s narrow shoulders while the rise and fall of his chest half-rocked Jack’s body in the water. Mark hummed softly and let his hands wander, sliding between their bodies and pressing against Jack’s back. Mark scoffed. “I never did finish giving you that back rub, did I? Think you've got the motivation to sit up and let me try again?”

Jack moaned just at the _thought_ of another backrub. “For a little slice of heaven, hell yeah I can sit up…” He tilted his head back first though, to press a kiss to Mark’s chin. “You're too good for me…”

With a little groan, Jack reached for Mark's knees again and hauled himself up off his boyfriend's chest. He bent his legs up in front of him, knobby, bruised knees poking out of the bubbles, and leaned forward against his thighs. “Do your best…”

Mark giggled. “A lot of people would say it's the other way around.” He lightly rubbed his hands up and down Jack’s back as it was exposed to the open air again, wiping away bubbles. “I would too…” he murmured. “So if I can treat you to a ‘little slice of heaven’ then I'm going to…” Mark traced a few silly patterns against Jack’s back with the lingering foam: dicks, doggies, stars and little hearts that would disappear beneath a quick peck of his lips.

Jack giggled like a child at the pictures Mark drew into his back, splashing his hands through the bubbles again. Who said you had to grow up? Bubble baths with your best friend were definitely the way to go.

“Sorry, couldn't resist. I'm five and your back is beautiful. Especially here…” Mark gently pressed fingertips to Jack's tattoo, rubbing a few light circles into the inked skin.

“I don't think anyone's ever called my _back_ beautiful before,” Jack mused, turning his head to the side and resting his cheek on his knees. He could sort of see Mark like this. “But it does have your name on it, so I'm glad you like it.”

“Brace yourself, laddie,” Mark murmured into Jack’s ear. “And try not to cum.”

Mark _really_ liked it, rumbling his deep voice in Jack's ear and making goosebumps appear across his damp skin. “Fuck…” he whispered, his dick already stirring even before Mark pressed thumbs against the knots in his back. It loved coming out to play whenever Mark called to him.

But then Mark _was_ massaging him properly, and Jack just melted across his knees, giving happy moans of pleasure every time Mark found a particularly tight spot.

“ _Everything_ about you is beautiful, Jack. Every last body part. Bit. I should say bit that's a lot less creepy and serial killerish.” Mark amended sheepishly while his hands set to work on Jack’s neglected muscles. “Maybe I'm biased. I dunno. But _I_ love every part of you. All of you. Even the ones that can _drive me crazy.”_ Mark ground his thumbs in extra hard down either side of Jack’s spine, then let his fingernails glide back up. “But that's okay, ‘cause I know I can drive you crazy too. In a few ways. Am I driving you crazy, Jack?” He kneaded his way back down and rolled his thumbs over the tattoo again.

Jack smiled, pink-cheeked from the compliments and the heat of the water. He groaned in response to Mark’s question, pressing back against those wicked thumbs. _Yes_ , Mark was driving him crazy. He was more than happy to keep up a little litany of noises for his lover. Mark loved hearing his effect on Jack. Jack didn’t mind not being quiet. Not in the least.

Mark leaned in to lay another kiss against Jack’s shoulder blade with a happy sigh. “Your little moans always drive _me_ wild. Somehow they're adorable and sexy at the same time. Just like you. Especially when I put my hands on you…” Mark squeezed at Jack’s hips. “Fuck, I love putting my hands on you… _all over_ you….”

“I’ll never complain about your hands on me,” Jack purred, boneless everywhere except where it counted. “I love your touch, Mark. Even when you’re not _massaging_. Just contact between us, your hands on my body… _mmm_. Touch me, Mark. Touch me _all over…_ ”

“All over?” Mark murmured the question into Jack’s shoulder. His fingertips tapped a little rhythm along Jack’s ribs as he hummed. “...what would you say to me… doing that, Sean? Touching you all over; right now? Just feeling out your body here under the water…. I can't see anything. I could do it. I... I _want_ to do it. If that's okay. I _know_ you always tell me I have free reign but I just… I have to check.”

“I’d say _please_.” Jack twisted his head more so he could look back at Mark with one blue eye. “Mark, if you want to, go for it. I’m not recording. We’re not in public. You can absolutely satisfy your curiosity on what I’m packing beneath these bubbles…” He smirked at Mark and gave a little wiggle. “You know you wanna… just know that I’m not unaffected by your magic fingers.” In other words, if Mark reached between his legs, he’d find Jack was hard. Jack didn’t want to scare Mark off with an unexpected erection.

Mark snorted into Jack’s shoulder and gave his hips another rough squeeze. “Well let’s see. I already know you got a dick, and I also know you have a _fantastic_ ass. Oh, and some balls. Okay, a _lot_ of balls. Am I missing anything? Is there some super secret mutation Jacksepticeye is hiding from the rest of the world?” He pressed his grin against Jack’s skin and whispered. “It’s okay, Jack. I’ve got a medical condition too. Three balls.”

Mark ended up laughing a bit more at his own referenced joke than intended. He winced and removed one hand from Jack to rub gently at his own ribs. “Huhuh… fuck… it’s not fair. I wanna laugh.” Huffing with irritation, Mark returned his hand to Jack’s skin. His hands smoothed over the planes of Jack’s back and sides, then curved around his shoulders, down past biceps and elbows to sink beneath the water. Mark kissed Jack’s shoulder. His touch was light and quick where his fingers glided effortlessly over Jack’s hips. Mark’s fingertips located Jack’s thighs and slid down them in a caress that was eagerly followed by palms. He didn’t stop until he reached Jack’s knees; squeezing at the muscle there with his own chest now pressed up against Jack’s back. He kissed the spot just behind Jack’s ear. _“Beautiful.”_

Jack went even redder as Mark murmured right into his ear, pressing his cheek closer against his knees. “So are you.”

He closed his eyes to better savor Mark's touch, sighing again at the caress. It was just as relaxing and just as arousing as Mark's earlier massage, but in an entirely different way. “I love you…”

“Love you more than all the things…” Mark kissed at Jack’s ear again and let his hands sweep back up. They dodged skillfully over Jack’s entire groin to instead touch upon his abs. Mark stroked the lean muscle there, up and down before rubbing light circles against the skin. He hooked his chin over Jack’s shoulder while his hands coaxed Jack back away from his knees. _“Wanna see you…”_

His hands rose up from the sea of bubbles to stroke and squeeze at Jack’s chest. Mark massaged Jack’s pectoral muscles for a few moments then let his fingers naturally slide down over already hardened nipples, squeezing. His mouth found the side of Jack’s neck. “Can’t see lower than your stomach. It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t hold back… wanna hear you…”

Jack was limp in Mark's arms, happy to be manhandled. He leaned his head against Mark's and arched his back, trying to show off his body as best he could for his boyfriend's viewing pleasure.

“ _Ah_ , yes, that's g-good, Mark…”

There were still bruises spotting Jack's chest and shoulders, lingering love bites from last night. Jack looked down at his own chest, watching Mark's fingers play with his pink nipples, moaning softly as the sensation sent pleasant tingles all the way down to his toes. “Fuck, Mark, how are you so _good_ with your hands?”

Mark paused. He tucked his head down and forced his hands to move again, abandoning Jack’s nipples in favor of his shoulders and biceps. “Haha… just practice, I guess. Playing video games and shit like that. Or maybe I just know exactly where you like to be touched.”

Jack was limp and pliant beneath Mark's touch, but he wasn't completely out of it. He noticed Mark's fingers stuttering and withdrawing and felt a little curl of guilt. “You know that's not how I meant it,” he murmured. _He_ didn't know how Mark had interpreted his words, but he feared he hit too close to _them_. “I love you. No matter _how_ you use your hands.”

“I know… I know you’d never…” Mark sucked in a little breath and let his hands slide back down Jack’s arms. “...I love you. I _do._ A-and I know, that you love me. No matter what. It’s just… hard. Sometimes. To convince my body that. I’m sorry. I love you.” He turned his head to kiss at Jack’s neck. “I trust you. You didn’t mean to.” Another kiss, and then Mark was trailing them down over Jack’s shoulder. His hands found Jack’s stomach again and came to rest there comfortably. Mark nuzzled into Jack’s skin with a shuddering breath. “...they’re never gonna leave me alone, are they?”

 _Probably not._ Jack couldn't say that, as much as he knew Mark already believed it. He took a deep breath and covered Mark's hands with his. “We'll keep shoving them away. Reclaiming your life. One thing at a time. Look at this, Mark. Look at us. Beneath these bubbles... _I'm completely naked_.” He nudged his chin against Mark's hair and squeezed his hands. “And so are you. And we're _together_ , and did you even think this would be possible? This _soon_? It hasn't even been a year, and look at how far you've come.”

“No….”

Jack kissed at Mark's hair, just out of reach, and smiled. “We'll keep shoving them away and moving ahead, and they won't have any power over you eventually. We'll get there. Together.”

Mark pressed his nose into Jack’s skin and breathed. “They’re not gonna win. They’re not. I won’t let them. _You_ won’t let them. We’re gonna stop’em, together. Just like we did with that asshole in the bathroom…. We’re gonna show they don’t have any power over us. None. Not out here. Never again.”

Mark dug his fingertips into Jack’s stomach. He lifted his face away from Jack’s shoulder at last; turning to face the other. Mark’s lips were slightly parted while his eyelids drooped low over his dark gaze. Mark made a soft, pleading sound at the back of his throat.

As if Jack could resist that face. He met Mark's mouth easily, lifting one hand to thread fingers through Mark's hair as they kissed, soft and slow and loving, just like this bath. He breathed through his swollen nose so he could enjoy the kiss, maintaining it as long as he could. This was Mark. Mark loved him. He loved Mark. They were _together_ , and no perverted bastards would get to tear them apart.

Mark squeezed at Jack’s stomach one more time before allowing his hands to roam again. They traced fingertips around the curve of Jack’s ribs to his back. He located the tattoo and rubbed at his initials. Slowly, his fingers inched lower from the tattoo until they could brush lightly against the swell of Jack’s ass, and then he gave a squeeze and snorted around Jack’s lips. “Gotchurbutt.”

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, fighting valiantly to not burst out laughing into Mark's mouth or yelping at the sudden squeeze. He did have to break the kiss, sucking his head and gulping in a few sharp breaths.

“So you do,” he finally said, lifting his head to look into Mark's dark eyes. “Now that you have it, what are you gonna do with it?” He gave a little shimmy just for good measure, pressing into Mark's fingers.

“‘M gonna squeeze it.” Mark slid his hands lower to better cup at Jack’s cheeks and gave them a hearty squeeze. A tiny grin began inching across his face. “It’s so _squishy._ Ohmygod Jack, it’s like one of those foam balls. Or a pillow. Ohmygod.” Mark was bubbling up with more giggles while he all but groped Jack. “Fuck, Jack, I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to _squish your fluffy ass._ What the fuck. This shouldn’t be so fun. I’m going to Hell.”

Jack burst out laughing as Mark discovered the joys of butt-squeezing. “ _Oh my god_ , Mark, have you never touched a butt before!?” Mark's joy was pure and innocent, and Jack couldn't stop laughing even as he squirmed from the squeezing and groping. “I bet even _your_ perfect specimen of an ass has some squish to it!”

“Well not a _naked_ butt! I bet you haven’t either!” Mark countered. “ _My_ ass is buns of fuckin’ _steel,_ thanks. Firm as a rock. Yours…” He gave Jack a harder grope; slightly less innocent, a little more sexual. Mark smirked. “...not so much.”

“Not a naked man-butt,” Jack acquiesced with a cheeky grin. “But Mark, I _have_ had girlfriends before. And we've _done the sex_.” He suspected that was what Mark meant as well, but it was still fun to tease him back. Serves him right, for calling Jack’s butt _fluffy_.

“Yeah, yeah, man-butts and man-sex and all that. Whatever. Your butt is still fluffy and I’m still gonna touch it.” Mark huffed. He kept rubbing at Jack’s ass, but then his fingers dipped into Jack’s crack on accident. Mark blinked. “Oh.” Curiously, he slipped the barest of fingertips down the cleft. “...hey, Jack… can I…”

Of course, Mark’s revenge came in the form of his fingers finding Jack’s crack, and Jack’s grin became less cheeky and more needy. “Mark… yeah. Yeah, of course you can.” This was starting to edge toward the area of sex Jack _wasn't_ ready to dive into right away, but he doubted Mark was going to actually do any fucking tonight. Touching, Jack knew he could cope with. Maybe even fingers...a finger? Maybe. _Maybe._ But if Mark wanted that, Jack knew he'd ask first. And they could talk about it then. Not now. Jack gave another squirm, sliding his ass along Mark’s finger. “Go for it…”

Gently, Mark slipped several of his fingers in. He let them slide up and down, then curled his hand around one of Jack’s cheeks to squeeze again. “Oh it’s almost as fun to squeeze this way. Does it feel good??”

Jack snorted as Mark got a better handful of his butt. “ _Does it feel good,_ ” he parroted. “Does it feel good, my ass!” Giggle. Snort.

 _Gasp._ Mark’s finger dipped lower, finding Jack’s hole and rubbing at it, and _ohfuck_ , if he thought Mark rutting up against his ass felt good… Jack bit his lip and looked back at Mark with wide eyes. “D-do that again?”

Suddenly, his apprehension was a lot further away, and Jack wanted to try a _lot_ more.

“Nerd.” Mark muttered fondly. Tentatively, he repeated the motion. “Jack.” Mark’s voice was small and wary even as he rubbed gingerly into Jack’s crack. “You… really like this? Really? I don’t… How??”

Jack twisted in the tub to look back at Mark. The act alone moved his body away from Mark’s hand. His heart broke at the confusion in Mark’s eyes, fresh cracks finding pieces that hadn’t yet been shattered by what his lover had suffered through. “Mark… Mark, can I show you?” He lifted a hand out of the bubbles to trace Mark’s jaw. “Can I turn around and touch _you_?”

“Jack…” Mark stared at him with a mixture of confusion and apprehension in his eyes even as he leaned into the touch. He lifted his hand out of the water to cover Jack’s. “I’m… what if I freak out? What if I start panicking? It was always so hard when Dr. Agon or the nurses would touch there, Jack. I know it’s been months but I don’t… I don’t know how I’ll react. If someone else touches there. It was.. it was bad. _Really_ bad.”

“Dr. Agon or the nurses aren’t _me_ ,” Jack said softly. He leaned in to catch Mark’s lips with his own, kissing him softly, running his tongue along the bottom lip. “Mark, I know you. I know when you start getting triggered, and I know how to bring you back. I love you. I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll go _real_ slow, and if it’s too much, I’ll stop. I promise.”

“W-well Dr. Agon or the nurses definitely wouldn’t have done _that…._ ” Mark murmured.

Jack kissed Mark again, let their lips move together. “We can face each other,” he said. “I’ll turn around, and you can… you can sit on my lap. On top of my legs, so you’re not trapped at all, and if you need to move away or get up, you can. If you jerk away, I’ll close my eyes immediately so you can get out. I just… I just want to try, Mark. To try to show you why _I_ like it.” He rubbed his fingers over Mark’s beard and smiled faintly. “May I?”

Mark drew in a tremulous breath, supplied a comparatively shaky nod and squeezed at Jack’s fingers. “...o-okay. Okay… we can try. But- I think. We should use... uh... words. Warnings. They’re like… safety words? Or something? I read about it online. I’ve been wanting to mention it, but things kept happening and I was just so happy to see you the past two days…”

Safewords were definitely a good idea (that they should have implemented long ago). Jack nodded his agreement. “Yeah, absolutely. That makes perfect sense. I mean, I’d always stop if you told me to, but I know they didn’t, so I know when you start losing it, you might not trust those words. If we come up with something that definitely, absolutely, no matter what means _stop right now_ , then… yeah. Yes. It’ll give you that power back, even in your panic. Right?” Jack twisted his wrist to brush his fingers against Mark’s. “Did you have any in mind?”

Mark tangled up their fingers together. The smile finally creeping back to his lips was bashful, but a little excited. Like a child explaining a new game to a best friend. “Well… I think random words would be too hard for me to remember. Or think of, in the moment. So I figured… how ‘bout a stoplight? Y’know. Red for stop, green for go, maybe yellow for caution…? They’re easy. And colors have always stuck out better for me than just words. It’ll be hard for me to forget what they mean or when I should use them… just like a traffic stop. It’s sorta ingrained in me already. This would be a good test for them, too.”

“So… Red Light, Green Light, but not the type we played as kids?” Jack grinned and squeezed their fingers together. “That works! It’ll be easy for me to remember too, so it’s not like you go ‘Felix!’ and I go ‘Where!?’”

“Lemme say it again: _nerd._ ” The fact Jack’s joke was lame didn’t stop Mark from chuckling at it. At all. “ _No._ Never. Not happening. We are _not_ uttering Felix’s damn name while we do all this gay stuff, Jack. Dammit. No matter how hilarious his face would be if he found out…”

Jack nodded, running the words through his mind again. _Red for stop. Green for go. Yellow for slow._ “Okay, so, if I said I wanted to turn around and face you fully, because this twisting is undoing all the good you did my back, what color would that be?”

Mark sighed. After a few moments, he spoke with hesitance but without doubt or regret. “Yyyy… yellow. Definitely yellow.”

“Okay. Scoot back,” Jack advised. “My legs are all achy still, so I’m not gonna be as graceful as I usually am. More like dead deer instead of baby deer.”

Mark snorted. “Jesus, Jack, be a little more depressing with your similes why don’t you.”

Jack eased himself away from Mark, careful of the spigot, and folded his legs up as best he could. He turned around in the tub, then slowly stretched his legs out again. His leg bumped against Mark’s knee, and he stopped, awkwardly half-curled.

“So… okay. Now, um… maybe if you can lift up a bit? There’s enough bubbles, but I can close my eyes anyway, and I’ll stretch my legs out, and then you can sit? Try to go above my knees: you don’t have to come too close, but I’ve got some big bruises right on my kneecaps, and you’ve theoretically got buns of steel, so…”

Breathing a bit shaky, Mark dragged his hands up out of the water to clutch at the edges of the bathtub. “A-and that was a _metaphor,_ Jack. You know my ass is just as squishable as yours. Don’t pretend.”

Jack closed his eyes and counted to five before stretching his legs out. He felt the water slosh as Mark moved forward, and then slowly Mark settled down in Jack’s lap. “Y... yellow… bright, bright yellow.”

Jack cracked an eye open to peer up at Mark. “Is bright, bright yellow closer to red or green?” he asked. Mark was tense but not panicking, his legs curled up in front of him. When Mark seemed okay with one eye, Jack tried the other. Good. He could look at Mark. He reached up slowly, letting Mark see his arms, see the bubbles dripping from his bony elbows, and reached up to stroke Mark’s biceps. “Hmm, I dunno about your ass’ squishiness. I haven’t gotten a chance to really squish it like you did mine. I’m only going off of what you told me…” He smiled reassuringly at his boyfriend. “We good?”

“Uhhh… red? Maybe I should say orange?? Haha, crap, that’s a mess.” Mark gave a tiny nod. “Still yellow. Trust me, Jack. There’s a reason everyone fawns over the Markibooty.”

Jack slid his hands along Mark’s arms from shoulders to elbows, not letting his touch wander anywhere else. He kept his eyes on Mark’s face, as much as he wanted to enjoy the sight of his boyfriend’s toned chest, wet and naked and trimmed with bubbles. “The water’s still warm,” he said. “We can take as long as you need to go from yellow to green. Is there anything else you’d like me to do to help you relax? Want a kiss? Hug? Want me to touch you elsewhere?”

Mark fingered at Jack’s sides, sweeping up and down, then gripped gingerly at his waist. “...a kiss would be nice. Maybe… maybe touch my chest? And my abs... up here. Not… not too low, yet. But green on the rest.”

With Mark’s permission, Jack slid his hands up Mark’s neck to cradle the base of his head as he leaned in for a kiss. He coaxed Mark into opening his mouth beneath his, and only after Mark started relaxing did he let his hands slide down slowly, feeling over Mark’s pecs and sweeping fingers across his nipples. He didn’t let his hands dip beneath the water at all, only caressing the parts of Mark exposed to him already.

Mark sucked in a breath through his nose and pressed harder into Jack’s kiss. He squeezed Jack’s waist as if to brace himself. Seconds later he was breaking their kiss with a soft “pop." “D-do that again.”

With a nod, Jack swept his fingers across Mark’s nipples again. He pressed lightly against the tight buds, then spiraled out and away until his hands were stretched flat across Mark’s chest, and he pulled his fingertips back in to gently pinch and flick. If Mark wanted special attention paid to his nipples, he was probably relaxing. Jack knew how to help him relax more. He _knew_ Mark’s body.

“You are so beautiful,” Jack breathed as he watched Mark’s reactions, every little twitch and sigh and moan. “Some days, I still can’t believe I get to do this to you. That you _want_ me to.”

Mark shuddered and groaned, but this time it was more audible without Jack’s mouth present to soak up the sound. He was starting to pant. Mark rubbed his hands up and down Jack’s sides again; staring at his boyfriend with pupils slightly dilated. “I wouldn’t let anyone else… Not even a chance. Touch me, Jack. Please... touch me lower. Touch my stomach. My sides. My back… please touch me _there._ ”

Jack kissed Mark’s reddened cheek, petting over his nipples. “I _love_ your sounds,” he reassured Mark. “Just like you love mine. I love hearing you enjoy me.” He loved watching Mark fall apart in front of him too. In his lap was new. In his lap and _naked_ was completely unheard of. Jack could feel the muscles in Mark’s legs as they tensed and relaxed, minute little twitches that gave away his pleasure.

“I _always_ enjoy you…” Mark whined; breathless and rough.

Mark was already starting to unravel beneath his fingers, so when he begged for more, Jack obeyed. His hands dropped slowly down Mark’s chest, seeking out scars and rubbing gently over them. He teased Mark’s belly button with a finger for a minute, then slid his hands apart and over his sides. On Mark’s back, he dared to drag his nails gently down, over the broad expanse of muscle, until his hand could settle possessively _there_ , over his initials. _Mine, you’re mine…_ It was no longer a terrible thought, no longer a horrifying feeling of possession. Mark was his, and _Jack was Mark’s_ , and that made it all okay. Good. _Amazing_.

“It’s me, Mark,” Jack murmured as he rubbed those letters, letting his nails scrape across Mark’s skin again, loving how Mark’s back arched and he gasped every time Jack touched him like that. “It’s just me, here in front of you, under you. It’s just me. You’re safe here. I love you. I want you to feel good. Are you feeling good?”

“ _Y-yeah._ Yeah, I'm feeling... f-feeling... _fuck,_ Jack. _Jack._ ” Mark wrapped muscular arms around Jack’s neck and sank forward. He nosed at Jack’s jaw until he had enough space to tuck his face into his favorite little nook. Lips still parted, Mark breathed heavy and warm across Jack’s skin. _“Touch me.”_ Mark’s legs gently shifted forward with his body to fold beneath him. His knees pressed into Jack’s thighs while his shins were forced to slightly part to either side. “K-keep touching me. Please. Green light… no, yellow? I… j-just slow. _Slow,_ please. Careful... I…”

Jack kissed at Mark’s hair and tucked his cheek against his head. As Mark unfolded from his defensive position, Jack murmured soft reassurances into those dark strands, still largely dry and floofy.

“If this makes you feel good, how about this?” Jack let his fingers dip lower, caressing skin usually hidden beneath the waistband of Mark’s underwear, at least. He slid his hands over the swell of Mark’s perfect ass, pressing gently with the pads of his fingers (not his nails, not here). Mark shivered and breathed out a light gasp into Jack’s neck. There was a bit of give to Mark’s ass, but not enough to call it _fluffy_. Mark’s muscles, even here, were strong and hard. Jack wanted to squeeze and grope like Mark had done to him, but he didn’t. Not this time. Maybe next time he came for a visit, Mark would be ready for that.

“I’m just going to touch you right now, Mark. I’m not going to touch you _there_ , not yet. Just here, just over your skin. I’m gonna go lower, okay? Just like I would if you were wearing your pants. We’ve done this before. Still feels good?” Jack kept his cheek against Mark’s hair, letting his eyes close as he slid his hand down and down, tucking just beneath Mark’s ass. He could feel new scars marring the skin, scars he _knew_ had to exist but had never actually seen before. Never felt. He _knew_ Mark had been scarred here, but even he hadn’t realized how badly. Another intact piece of his heart shattered into dust as his fingers pressed against the crease just above Mark’s thighs and he _only_ felt scarred skin, puckered and rippled and rough. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you, Mark. Flaws and all. You’re beautiful.”

Mark’s arms curled tighter around Jack’s neck while his hands trailed down the curve of Jack’s back; fingertips pressing in to mimic the ones on his ass. He pushed his mouth against Jack’s neck. “ _Jack, Jack._ It… y-yeah. Yeah, it still feels good, it…” Mark breathed out a teary sounding whimper and kissed Jack’s neck. “I love you… so much… Jack…” There was a very light sniffle. “Gr-green light….” He clung shakily to Jack's back and shoulders and buried his face further, in green hair, in a neck still bruised by his own bites.

“I’ve got you, Mark,” Jack murmured. “I’ve got you. It’s okay. It’s just me.” He slid his hands down the undersides of Mark’s thighs as far as he could go without forcing Mark to move, then up around the sides. More scars, so _many_ scars, cut into Mark’s legs. Jack took a deep breath, keeping himself calm. He let his fingers stroke back up to the crease in front of Mark’s thighs, where his legs were bent to sit in Jack’s lap, and then back around to Mark’s ass, skipping over his groin completely.

“You can stop me at any time,” Jack reminded Mark. “And I will. Just say red, and I’ll stop. I’m going to do that again, though. Gonna touch you just like I just did.” He rubbed his cheek over Mark’s hair and hesitated slightly. “Let me… let me know if you want me to try something more.” Inner thighs, or crack, or even dick. Jack wouldn’t go to any of those areas without Mark’s permission or complete relaxation.

Mark nodded; giving Jack’s shoulders a squeeze with his biceps. “It… it's fine, it's fine, just… j-just yellow. I… I-it helps, that we’re like this… that you aren't… behind me…”

"Just keep focused on me," Jack said. "Remember that it's me, that I love you, that I'd never, _never_ hurt you." He kissed Mark's dark hair and cupped Mark's ass in his hands again, careful not to squeeze.  
  
"Does it hurt?" he asked, pressing his palms tighter against the firm muscle before returning to the gentle petting of wet skin. "What I'm doing? Does it hurt, or feel wrong?" Back of thighs, around to the front of thighs, then over Mark’s hips and back to his ass. Jack pressed lightly as he moved his hands, rubbing the strong muscles beneath the damaged skin.

“N-no… no. It... feels kind of good, actually. It's… nice. Like a massage. It feels good on the…”

This time, Jack let his thumb skim down the crack of Mark’s ass. He didn’t press in, he just flirted with the cleft, let him feel it with no pressure. “Does _this_?”

Mark shuddered briefly, face tucked into the spot just under and behind Jack’s ear so he could keep his voice a low whisper. “...no… That doesn't hurt. Not anymore. And it doesn't… feel _wrong._ Because it's you. It's just… sensitive. I-it- I'm- I keep waiting… f-for something to happen…”

"Would you like something to happen?" Jack pulled one hand away from Mark's ass to wrap around his back, holding him loosely in one arm as he continued to touch. "I won't hurt you, you know I won't hurt you, but would you like me to touch..."

There wasn't really a good word to describe what Jack meant without being crude and out of place in this soft moment. " _There_?" he finally settled on, trusting Mark would know where he meant. "Show you the difference between us and _them_? Let you feel how good it felt when you did it to me?" He rubbed his chin over Mark’s head before tucking his cheek back against that dark hair. “You can say no. It’s okay.”

"Y-yellow. Yellow, Jack, I know you won't hurt me. Not on purpose. I know you'd do your best to be careful, Jack, I'm just... scared." Mark's words were breathless as he curled his arms in to tighten around Jack's neck. He buried his face in the close-shaved brown hair at the side of Jack's scalp. He kissed the spot with trembling lips. "I'm so scared it'll be just like with them. Just as painful and _bad_ and I don't want to feel dirty and used like that again, Jack. Ever. I don't. I _can't_ not when I'm finally better..."

"Then I won't." Jack ran his hand over Mark's ass, skimming over his crack but not stopping, not giving it even an extra second of attention. "I won't. But just trust me when I say that when you touch me there, I don't feel dirty or used. I felt loved, Mark, and cherished, because you were taking such good care of me."

"You did? You're not just saying that, to make me more comfortable, are you?"

"Why would I do that?" Jack asked softly. "Why would I tell you it felt good if it didn't? Why wouldn't I just stop you and let you go back to something that did feel good?" Jack wasn't accusing Mark of not trusting him, was just trying to dispel Mark's doubts.  
  
"I... I don't know. It's just something my brain does. Questions anything that goes against... what I learned in that room. I'm sorry." Mark gnawed at his bottom lip and then flinched; hissing. _“Fuck me_ I can't wait ‘til this crap heals. Gah. Fuck.” His arms dropped to loop around Jack's waist while he tongued at the scab on his lip.

Jack turned his head had a little to brush his lips against Mark's ear. "If you ever make me feel dirty, it's in the very best ways, like when you've got me up against the wall and all I can think of is how you'd feel inside me, and how much I _need_ it..." Jack huffed a little laugh against Mark's hair. "I have no idea if I'm gayer than I thought I was or if it's just _you_."

"I dunno. We always were pretty gay together, even before things happened..." Mark kissed at the shell of Jack’s ear. His next huff of breath was a little shaky. "I love picking you up and pressing against you. I love the sounds you make for me. How you beg for me. It sounds so pretty and I just can't get enough, I need to keep drawing those sounds out of you..." Mark's voice was harsh, low and rumbling. He nibbled at the skin behind Jack's ear.

Jack shivered at the scrape of Mark's teeth, closing his eyes and shifting beneath Mark. "Mm, I think it's no secret that I love it when you make me beg. When you wind me up so tight that I can't, I _can't_..." He curled his fingers, dragging nails lightly up Mark's ass. "I want to turn the tables on you someday. Pin you to the bed and just _ravish_ you with my mouth and hands until _you're_ begging _me_...but I can wait. I _want_ to make you unravel, but I _need_ you to keep holding me like this."

Even with the water, their minute movements created friction between them. Mark's breath hitched. His back arched at the drag of nails and he whimpered. Holding Jack, Mark gave his hips a little wiggle. "Jack. Jack, can I... I want to try something. I don't know if I can follow through with it, if I start freaking out, but... I want to _try_." Mark pulled back to kiss Jack’s lips before looking imploringly at him with huge, dark eyes.

"I know. It's okay." Jack ran his fingers down Mark's back soothingly. He returned Mark's kiss, spreading his hand over Mark's ass again without the nails. "Try whatever you want. Stop whenever you need. I'm here. I'm right here. If you start freaking out, I'll bring you back." He kissed Mark again, careful of his face. He had to look _terrible_ with dark, swollen eyes and a splinted nose, but Mark didn't seem to mind. Jack was grateful for it, and was glad he had never made a big fuss over Mark's injuries. Hadn’t fussed over his current injuries. "I love you. I have you."

Mark leaned in to give Jack another kiss, mouthing "I love you" against his lips. He held there, for a moment, then pulled back but only enough to press their foreheads together, staring into Jack’s eyes. "I love you..." he repeated just above a whisper.

One of Mark’s hands remained digging into Jack's back like an anchor. The other retracted; tracing feather light fingertips across Jack's hip and thigh and then slipped over to Mark’s body. "Wh-when I do it, just... nnn... try not to react too strongly, o-okay?? I know it might be hard but it could set me off." He lifted his free hand out of the water so he could cradle the back of Jack's head.

Jack held Mark's gaze, smiling warmly up at those brown eyes. He loved this man. He said it with every kiss they shared, every stroke of fingers across Mark's skin.

"I'll try not to," Jack said. He was getting much better at not reacting, or at least not moving where Mark didn't want him (though he hated it was something he had practice in). He still fell victim to the occasional involuntary spasm, though.  


The water sloshed lightly around their waists as Mark began to stroke himself. Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying not to imagine it, trying not to think about how they were naked _together_ , Mark was naked _on his lap_ , and it was because he wanted it, they both wanted it, and there was no one forcing them to do this, no reason why Jack couldn't enjoy the sensation of Mark's thighs straddling his own. He let the breath out with a soft murmur of pleasure, opening his eyes again to look at Mark. "Just tell me if you want anything more." He was still holding Mark with one hand and stroking over his ass with the other, and he didn't want to ever stop.

Mark gave Jack another quick peck coupled with a grateful smile. "I love you." He released another shuddering breath. "Just... just hold me, and... you can keep doing what you're doing, just don't squeeze too hard or use your nails too much. It... it makes me think of them, so. You can put your hands anywhere, just not where mine are, um... and my hair. Not... not my hair." Parameters set, he drew a deep breath.  
  
Jack's sharp gasp matched Mark's as Mark slipped forward on his legs, brushing against Jack's erection with his own. His thighs tensed, wanting to rock up against Mark, but Jack bit his lip hard to hold himself back, breathing shallowly through his nose until the immediate urge passed.  
  
Their dicks were touching. Their naked dicks were touching, and...and...Jack struggled against a bout of giggles, failing to catch them all. "God, I'm sorry, I'm such an immature..." He sagged forward, pressing his forehead against Mark's shoulder and hugging the other man as his own shoulders quivered with giggles. "That's so _gay_ , Mark..."

Mark sputtered softly, cracking up. "Oh my God Jack, you're right, it _is_ gay. Oh shit, I h-hope this doesn't mean _we're_ gay. Quick- n-no homo, bro." Mark couldn't take it. He was laughing even harder against Jack; face buried in green hair.

"No homo, Mark, no homo! We're just friends, best friends, this is totally what bros do when they're visiting each other..." Bubble baths and naked dick touching...maybe that was why Jack didn't have any local friends. He giggled harder, not holding back as Mark joined in, the bubbles sloshing around them as their bodies shook with laughter and _oh_ , that rubbed their dicks together and Jack's giggles choked into a moan at the friction. "God, I love you Mark..."

Mark mimicked the sound and flushed. He tangled his fingers into the back of Jack's green hair. "I love you so much, Sean. Let me... let me show you..."  
  
Beneath the bubbles, Mark’s hand shifted, jumping from his own dick to Jack’s. He gently squeezed, voice a low, rumbling whisper in Jack's ear. "Can you feel me?"

Jack's answer was another moan, both at the touch and the deep voice in his ear, melting his brain at the first touch of that rumble. Not only was Mark's voice husky and quiet in his ear, but he was also _touching Jack's dick_. His very naked, very hard penis. Jack managed a shaky nod, all the muscles of his legs tense as he fought so hard not to thrust into Mark's fingers. "J-just...be gentle," Jack whispered against Mark's skin. "Still sore..." His hand had taken the worst of the pressure from the attack at Blizzcon, but his dick was rather grossly discolored from bruises now and ached if it was squeezed too much. Grinding against Mark that first night had probably _not_ been the best idea, but Jack hadn't cared at the time, He didn't care now, but his future self probably would.

"Oh. Right. Right, sorry." Agonizingly slow and with a furrowed brow, Mark began sliding his hand up and down Jack's shaft. "I think mine's bigger." A giggle danced around the edge of his words and he pressed a kiss to Jack's ear. "...I'm... I'm okay. I'm okay, Jack, are you okay? Do I need to stop?"

Jack’s eyes fluttered at the strokes along his dick, his pent-up movement coming out as a deeper tone to his groan. He gave minute little twitches of his hips, fighting hard to keep from fucking into Mark’s fist as those teasing fingers felt out the head of his dick. His hard-won control beneath the waist came at the expense of everything else, and he gasped and panted, no shame at all to the noises he made, his mouth hanging open, fingers scraping across Mark’s back.

He pulled his other hand up to Mark’s waist, not entirely sure he could trust himself to _not_ grab, especially not when Mark’s fingers dipped even lower, circling over his balls and drawing a desperate whine from Jack’s throat. It was all so _maddingly_ slow and gentle, and Jack understood why, but at the same time, he wanted more, _needed_ more. “Mark...Mark, can I...can I touch your hand? Just for a minute, to show…?”

Mark dragged his lips along the ridge of Jack’s brow. He let his hand draw to a stop at Jack’s base and huffed a soft breath into Jack’s hair. “...yeah. Yeah, you can show me how you like it. Just… be gentle, and slow about it…. Not that I need to tell you ‘cause of, y’know. But still. Don’t… don’t push me, or anything. Okay? I want to know how to make you feel good. But they… they wanted me to know too, and this… it… it’s not far off from something they’ve done, so… we just need to be careful. Okay? I trust you, but I might… be tense, at first. I just wanted you to know.” He pulled back to look into Jack’s eyes again; dragging his free hand around so he could cup Jack’s cheek in his palm. “I love you.”

Jack pulled away from Mark’s shoulder so he could kiss him, taking his time to return the sentiment with lips and tongue. “You’re doing great,” he said. “Just...just wanted to let you know the pressure…” He pulled his hand away from the small of Mark’s back, moving it slowly through the water to first touch Mark’s hand, then curled his fingers around Mark’s. He squeezed gently, tightening Mark’s grip slowly. “This...this is okay. And this...ah, but that,” Jack immediately loosened his hand, “that’s where it starts being more hurty than happy.”

Explanation over, Jack slid his hand back to Mark’s back and kissed his cheek, his jaw, pressed his lips beneath Mark’s ear and sucked gently on the skin there. “Ordinarily, I’d like it a _little_ tighter, but…” But the whole point of taking a hot bath in the first place was because Jack was sore and wanted to ease some of the ache in his bruises. “You still good?”

Mark released the breath he’d been holding. He traced fingernails down along the curve of Jack’s spine. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m good. I’m… I’m gonna try something else, now that… now that you showed me how hard I can squeeze. Okay? I promise I’ll be careful. But if I hurt you, just say the word. And I’ll stop. You get the same outs that I do. All right?” Mark let his nose drag along the split in Jack’s hair between brown and green, affectionately nuzzling the spot.

Jack stroked his fingers up and down Mark’s back, petting the tension out of his muscles in a gentler version of the massage Mark had given him, mindful of Mark’s own bruises. He let his head rest on Mark’s shoulder again, closing his eyes and sighing his contentment as Mark sat on his lap and just held him, both with his hand on Jack’s back and his hand holding Jack’s erection. “Mm. It’s only fair now. I love you.” He kissed Mark’s skin beneath his lips and tightened his arms. “I love this. We need to do this more often.”

Of course, Jack said that about _everything_ they did, or at least thought it. But this, bathing together...required them to actually _be_ together. In the same country. And there were only a few more days before Jack was returning to Ireland. A few more days to submerge himself in Mark’s presence. Sadness swelled in Jack’s heart and he swatted it away, swallowing down the lump in his throat. _No._ He had _days_ still. Plenty of time to enjoy Mark’s company...and right now, Mark was very naked and very in his arms and very hard and being adventurous and exploratory and Jack was going to _love_ it, damnit!

“I love you too.” Mark murmured while he tightened his one-armed grip as well. He let his fingernails bite lightly into the skin just beside Jack’s spine. “I think I could manage that. I was never really into baths, but I think… I could really get used to taking them. If I’m with you.” He gave Jack a small stroke. “If we can do this.” Mark pressed his cheek to Jack’s hair and sighed from his nose. Carefully, he tugged Jack’s erection back over to his own. They brushed each other beneath the water, and Mark sucked in a breath. He released it and released Jack’s dick at the same time, then closed his hand around both of their erections, holding them together. _“Ah-”_ Mark’s hips twitched forward. His dick shifted and slid against Jack’s and he whined softly. “Oh _fuck._ ”

 _Ohhh_ , that was _so_ much better than thinking about going back to Ireland. Jack groaned as Mark pulled their cocks together. Their entire lengths rubbed with every breath, sensitive heads brushing against each other. He clung to Mark as his own hips rocked once, biting deep into his lip as he struggled to keep from letting it happen again. “Sweet Jesus, Mark, _yesss…_ ” The word hissed out between Jack’s teeth, and he trembled in Mark’s arms. The exertion needed to keep _still_ was almost a workout in and of itself. One day, Jack wouldn’t need to hold himself back. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself…

“ _Shit,_ fuck, Jack, _Jack…_ ” Mark gasped. He rocked back in turn and let loose another whine. “Jack, Jack, Jack… mnnghnn, _Jack,_ y-you… you can move. You can _move,_ just go slow, please go slow oh God I don’t wanna lose it now. I don’t wanna get scared and stop this feels so good, Jack, _you’re_ so good. Please, please just hold out for me a little longer baby _please._ ”

“Fucking hell…” Jack whispered at Mark’s words, at that endearment that slipped out, at what he was saying, his _name_ chanted in that fraying voice. He shifted his hands to Mark’s hips, holding him steady on top of Jack’s legs, and lifted his head so he could kiss his boyfriend again. He didn’t release his control, not yet. First he just kissed Mark, licking into his mouth as he held his hips loosely, gasping with every slide of Mark’s erection against his.

“I love you, I love you Mark, I love you so much…” Jack peppered Mark’s face with little kisses to punctuate every declaration of love he offered. His muscles still trembled as he tried to relax his control, rocking shallowly up against Mark. Mark’s fingers were still wrapped around their dicks, not squeezing, just holding, and the slow push of Mark’s throbbing shaft against his own wasn’t hard enough to hurt. It was amazing, perfect, more than Jack thought he’d be able to get from Mark on this trip...but Mark was always surprising him. Always pushing through his limits for Jack. Jack pulled back from Mark’s face to stare into his eyes, searching for any discomfort or fear. Jack loved how Mark would push himself for him, but he never wanted Mark to do so at the cost of his own comfort.

Mark moaned, deep and low, forcing his eyes to meet Jack’s. He gave a particularly strong thrust as his free hand returned to cradling Jack’s jaw, kissing Jack deep and needily. “I. _Love._ ** _You,_** ” Mark breathed as he pulled back. “ ** _You,_** Sean McLoughlin. No one else.”

Mark didn’t look afraid, and that was enough for Jack. It _had_ to be enough for Jack, because Mark kept thrusting up against him, driving all rational thoughts from his mind as his world narrowed to the hard flesh pressed against his own, the hot mouth that kept catching his, the deep chocolate brown eyes that stared into his soul. Jack panted against Mark’s cheek as he held him, clutching at wet skin and sliding up into Mark’s fingers, against his erection.

“Mark...Mark…” Jack’s eyes squeezed shut as he strained beneath Mark’s legs, grateful Mark’s own weight was keeping him pinned and unable to move too much. If he went and triggered Mark now, ruined things between them, he’d never forgive himself. This was all good, far too good. He reached up, dragging his fingers away from Mark’s back to catch his face and pull him back into another kiss, remembering his nose almost too late. _I love you. I love you. I love you._

“Jaaaaack…” Mark groaned. He clenched his jaw and sucked in quick breaths through his teeth. “Nnnghhnnn…” The combination grunt and whine rapidly became swallowed up by another kiss. He tilted his head, deepening their kiss, pushing his tongue between eager lips to find Jack's. Mark’s muffled moans escalated in pitch and volume while he raked fingers through Jack’s hair. “Jack. Jack I'm. I'm gonna go. I'm gonna. You can. You too. Whenever. Jack. _Jack._ ** _Sean._** ”

“I want you to,” Jack mumbled against Mark’s mouth. He rocked up against Mark, pressing his fingers through Mark’s beard and across his neck. Mark’s broad shoulders called to him, and Jack slid his hands down to grip and squeeze at the curve of muscle there. He wanted more than Mark’s shoulders, though, and kept his hands moving down, down Mark’s back, trailing nails lightly near Mark’s spine until he had found the swell of Mark’s ass again. He curled his fingers against Mark’s skin, fighting hard not to grab on but wanting Mark to feel it, feel him touching _here_ , here and not hurting, when he came. “Mark, I want you, I want…”

He _wanted_ to be out of the tub, to feel Mark cum on his skin, not washed away immediately by the bath. He’d wanted it for _months_ , but this was the closest they had come to that, to being naked together, working toward the inevitable. He wanted to taste Mark, to suck on Mark’s dick without cotton in the way. He wanted to look, to _look_ and not feel guilty for seeing. He wanted to be allowed to indulge in his lover… and he could, really. He _could_ , here and now, just like this. Jack kissed Mark again, pressing up into his mouth and his hand, trying to coax Mark to come apart.

Mark’s body eagerly leaned into the descent of Jack’s hands. He arched and curved and continued to rock his hips. Mark swallowed up Jack’s kiss like it was his oxygen and whimpered at another particularly strong thrust on his end. His fingers tightened their grip on Jack’s hair, pulling his face closer, holding him still as Mark pushed and pushed and _pushed_ with his hips. He squeezed a little harder at their dicks.

Boneless Mark in his arms was hardly the same as his cum on Jack’s skin, but it was just as good. Jack held Mark as he came, feeling like he was breathing _for_ Mark as they kissed and Mark fell apart beneath his tongue. His dick jerked against Jack’s and Jack dug his fingers into Mark’s ass unintentionally, tugging Mark closer, tighter against him as he felt his self control slip out of his grasp and away into the warm bubbles. Jack rocked up into Mark’s hand only a couple more times before he too was coming, clutching at Mark like a lifeline.

Jack’s brain was fizzing happily, and staying upright was proving far too difficult. He leaned back slowly, carefully, finding the edge of the tub and resting against it with Mark still tight against his chest. He tried to find something, _anything_ to say to Mark, but only one thing kept floating down to his tongue no matter how many times he tried to swallow it down. _Fuck it_. He’d just gotten off against Markiplier’s dick, in Markiplier’s _arms_. “Never let go…” he whispered, ending with a breathless laugh huffed against Mark’s cheek.

Mark tucked his head up beneath Jack’s chin. “Did you really just-” Mark wheezed out a breathless laugh. “Oh my _God,_ Jack, that’s _my_ line you absolute _dweeb._ We just came in each others’ laps and that’s the first thing you say to me. _Our dicks were touching, Jack._ ” A pause. “...they _still are._ ”

“And what very nice dicks they are too,” Jack murmured, giving his hips a little wiggle so their dicks brushed against each other. “Mm, yes, tenouttaten, best dicks.” Jack let his hands smooth over Mark’s ass and he grinned up at the ceiling. “You could’ve threatened me with a goat, you know.”

“Loser…” It came out as a feather light, breathy moan. “You sound so gay right now… feelin’ me up like a total homo… should be absolutely ashamed of yourself…” His words were a slow drawl. “You wouldn’t have taken the goat as a threat and you know it.”

“Yeah, well, you're soaking in cum-soup,” Jack murmured, then wrinkled his nose. “Ew. Gay.”

“...see, you go and say stuff like that, and _now_ I wanna get out. Dammit, Jack.” Mark’s nose scrunched up as well.

They were naked. They were fully naked, lying together. Jack could feel every inch of Mark’s body against his own. It was _glorious_. He sighed, his eyes closed, a happy smile on his face. “I wish we could sleep like this,” he admitted to Mark. ‘not in the tub, but…” In bed. Warm and dry, snuggled up beneath the blankets and wrapped in each other’s bodies and nothing else. “I love you. I love that I can hold you.”

Mark burbled quietly and rubbed his stubbled cheek against Jack’s skin. The hand curled around Jack’s neck stretched out so he could run his thumb along the shell of an ear. “...sorry… I know how much you like cuddling and stuff, and this does feel really nice. But I don’t… I don’t know if I could do it yet, in a bed. It’s all the padding. It’s too easy to go back…. In the bath, it’s harder. Possibly the hardest. They _never_ bathed me.” Mark burrowed deeper beneath the bubbles and hid his mouth against Jack’s chest while he peered up with big, brown eyes. “I love you.”

Jack ran his fingers up Mark's back, stroking each vertebrae and letting his eyes slip closed. “God, don't look at me like that, Mark. I'll just jump you again.” His hand tentatively skimmed up the back of Mark's head, petting his hair lightly.

“Then don’t make me look at you like that. Not my fault you’re weak.”

“I'm okay with not having this in a bed, Mark. I'd love to, but you know I don't _need_ it.” Jack traced his finger over the shell of Mark's ear and gave a sigh that was half content, half frustration. “There's so _much_ I'd love to do with you. It's ridiculously selfish of me. Every time we push a little further, I just want _more_. But Mark, I _don't need it_. I swear.”

Mark stuffed his face back into Jack’s chest with an irritated grunt. “I keep trying to push because I want more too. Or part of me does. But it’s hard.”

“Do...Would it help if I pushed you some?” Jack let Mark relax before resuming the gentle stroking of his hair. “Not force you into anything, but...ask for more?” Jack tried not to ask for anything Mark hadn't already given him. The occasional request, like to kiss Mark's dick, usually went over well.

Mark ended up thinking on them for a good minute or two at least. “...I think… maybe… I’m not… I’m not as jumpy, as I used to be. I’ve improved a lot. Even when you surprise me, it’s usually not so bad.” He snuggled a bit closer to Jack. “I’m not the best at guessing what you want, unless it’s obvious. If you asked me for stuff… told me what you needed… I wouldn’t have to come up with ideas. Or things to try. I’d… have options. I’d _still_ have options, Jack, you’d just… give me more of them.” He affectionately nuzzled at his boyfriend’s chest again.

“We could even try now,” Jack suggested. “We both could use a shower...We could try together?” Still naked and wet, warm and together, but without the cover of bubbles. It would be another step forward.

Mark’s next exhale was a little shaky. “...we can try. I’d like to try. I don’t know if it’ll be as successful. We’d have to start slow. I’d need… if you could not look at me, at first. Not touch… I might not be able to look at you, either. But I’d… I’d need to initiate pretty much everything. That’s all I can think of.”

“We don't have to do it right away.” Jack lifted his other hand to scoop some bubbles off the top of the foam and blew them at Mark. “We still have a lot of bubbles left, and the water is still warm. Ish. _You're_ warm.” And not as heavy with the buoyancy of the water.

“But then after the shower, we can reward ourselves by climbing into bed together. Dressed.” Jack tried twirling a lock of Mark's hair around a finger before resuming his gentle petting. “And you get to direct the action. Sound doable?”

Mark settled back against Jack. Quietly, his trapped arm shifted so he could lightly drag his fingers along the fringe of Jack’s hair. “Yeah… yeah, I think we can try that… If I freak out, we’ll just… stop. And take turns. It’ll be okay.”

“Exactly,” Jack said, closing his eyes and leaning into Mark’s caress. “If it’s too much, I turn around and you can get out and get dressed. We can make it work.” He leaned down to press a kiss to Mark’s hair. He really couldn’t get enough of the dark strands, and even though Mark let him pet now, Jack still took it slow and careful, not pushing for nearly as much as he’d like.

“We always do…”

“Thank you for this bath,” Jack murmured into Mark’s hair. “I _am_ feeling better.” That had been the whole point of the bath anyway, to soak away some of Jack’s aches. “Might need to wait until I’m back in Ireland before my dick finally heals…”

Mark hummed out a content sound _._ “‘M glad… Wanna do anything I can to help you… Sorry about your dick. I try to be gentle but…”

Jack shook his head, letting his free arm wrap around Mark’s back, squeezing him gently. “Don’t worry about it. I only get you for a few more days. It’s not like it _hurts_ , it’s just a bit achey. And it’s really gross colors, but my legs are worse.”

He was only going to be here for a few more days, and then Jack was going to return to the little cottage in Ireland that was way too big without Mark and Chica filling it, to an empty bed that was always too cold, to an empty life. Jack bit his lip and pressed his cheek into Mark’s hair again, squeezing his eyes shut against the prickle of tears. At least Mark had Chica to cuddle with when he wasn’t with Jack. Jack just had lifeless pillows.

Mark pressed his mouth back into the outline of Jack’s collar bones. He gently kneaded at Jack’s shoulder _._ “...I wish you didn't have to go…”

“Me too,” Jack admitted softly. “And I...You know I’ve been looking into immigration rules to move out here. I mean, you’ve done it, you’ve gone back to life on your own. You can sleep alone. That was the whole reason why I went back the first time.” There was nothing _wrong_ with Mark spending his life with another person, but they both needed to know that Mark didn’t _need_ to have Jack in his life to be okay. “So moving out here would be because we both wanted it, and not because I was just a crutch. But…”

Even though Mark was going to move out of the city and into a distant suburb, with trees and parks and quiet, it was still sunny and hot and _five thousand miles_ from Jack’s family. Jack struggled on keeping his breathing calm. Mark was tucked against his chest. He could feel everything. “I know I said last time that I wanted to… but Ireland’s my _home_. I can’t just… I want to, I love you, don’t get me wrong, but… my whole family’s over there, and I love them too, and…”

Mark released Jack’s shoulder and wriggled his arm until it could snake behind Jack’s neck. He squeezed at Jack like that in the best semblance of a hug he could manage in their position. “I know. I know it is, Jack. I understand. It's got nothing to do with me. I wouldn't… I wouldn't ask you to abandon everything just for me.”

Mark sighed and did his best to burrow deeper into Jack’s chest. “I just wish there was a way we could see each other more… Like for extended periods. Living together is… it's something I want more than anything. But I don't know how we could do it…” Mark puffed out a warm, frustrated breath into Jack’s skin.

“Even if I did want to be over here permanently, it’d be next to impossible,” Jack said. His voice was choked up and thick against Mark’s hair, and he _hated_ it. “I... _did_ look into all kinds of visas and stuff. I’d need to get a job over here, with a company that would sponsor me. Self-employed doesn’t cut it. Or I’d need to marry an American...and I don’t think we’re anywhere near that discussion. The most I could stay without a visa is six months out of the year. And I dunno, maybe I could pull that off, but I’d need to have two setups and...and it’s still six months without you.”

In some ways, that would be worse. Six months with Mark and six months without, glut and famine. Jack’s heart would just _ache_ as it flip-flopped between having all the Mark he wanted and none of it.

“Hold the phone.” Tension returned to Mark’s body, but only because he was stirring. He tugged at his arms to pull himself up some and looked at Jack with a curious, hopeful expression. Jack loosened his hold on Mark, lifting his head away from Mark’s hair as Mark pushed himself up. He met those brown eyes curiously, wondering what had come to Mark’s mind. “Six months. That's half a year you'd be here, with me. That I'd be here. You'd need to go back for the other six… what if I went with you?”

It was the stupidest, most obvious, most _brilliant_ solution Jack had never considered. “Why would you want to come to Ireland?” his mouth asked as his brain tried to figure out the logistics. “There’s _nothing_ there, you’ve seen that for yourself. All the YouTube stuff is here in L.A.”

 _But I’d be in Ireland,_ Jack thought, staring up at Mark. _I’d be there, and you...you’d come for me? For six months?_ “...what about Chica?”

If they both spent six months with the other… they’d both need two setups, but that was okay, Jack still had the computer they’d built for Mark back at his cottage. He could easily build one for himself here with Mark. And clothes and stuff...six months was long enough to keep summer wardrobe one place and winter somewhere else. They wouldn’t even need to _pack_ much, just hop a flight together…

It might work. If Mark actually wanted to do that, to spend six months of the year away from home...it might actually work.

“Why would I-” Mark sputtered at Jack as if he'd just asked the most ridiculous question he'd ever heard. “Jack, first of all, there's _you_ in Ireland. That's already more than enough reason. But… I also like it there. I mean, it's kind of a second home to me. I spent _months_ there, Jack. Months of recovery in that cottage- _our cottage._ I got used to the environment. The atmosphere. I got used to stupid Irish food and hearing everyone talk like you. I got used to snuggling up with you on rainy days and working in the garden. God, I miss our garden. Chica does too. She has more space where I live now but it's not the same. Stupid as it sounds, there's just something… well, _magical_ about that place. Where we lived, and where I got better. It means something to me now. So what if L.A. has all the big YouTube connections? I'll have that for six months. And I'd rather have you than a prime location any day. You can YouTube _anywhere_ , Jack. But I can't cuddle with my boyfriend unless he's there.”

Jack flushed a little. _Nobody_ wanted to move to Ireland. Even their most die-hard Septiplier fans would fantasize about Jack moving to L.A. to be with Mark. It was just assumed, given that the U.S. was the best country in the world and of _course_ Jack would want to live there and was just waiting for a boyfriend to be his excuse.

Mark dropped his head so he could mush his cheek up against Jack’s chest again. “Chica could come. Tom said she didn't do too bad on the flight over, and she was okay when we came back. She could get used to it. Might not even need a sedative after enough trips. People take their dogs around the world with them all the time. And I couldn't just leave her here. She'd miss us too much- she already misses _you_.”

Jack folded his arms around his boyfriend and held him tight. “That would be _perfect_ ,” he whispered, feeling hope dig roots through his sadness, breaking it apart. “Six months here, six months there...we could maybe even work out the timing so we’re here for conventions and don’t have to do trans-Atlantic flights, because those _suck_ , so that would be summer over here, so your birthday, so you could be with friends and family, and then winter would be over there, so _my_ birthday…”

“See? It all works out. It’s _perfect._ I can stand being away from home for a few months if I’ve got you, and Chica… If it means we can go back to our silly little cottage and get away from the crazy outside world for a while… And with my new house, L.A. won’t be so overwhelming for you. I can introduce you to it at your own pace. It’ll be great. You’ll be here to do collabs with Bob and Wade and the Grumps and all kinds of Youtubers. Opportunities you never had before. It’ll be so awesome… I wish I’d thought of this sooner…” Mark shifted his hold down to Jack’s waist and gave a happy sigh.

It could work. It _would_ work, just like everything else they did together. And if Chica could come along with them, then they could all three of them actually maybe sort of...be a family. Two men and their dog and countless potato-babies. Jack pressed a kiss to the top of  Mark’s head, feeling about to cry for entirely different reasons. “I love you, Mark. So much.”

“Love you, Jack. We can look more into this later… before you leave. It might not be easy to sort out, but… we can do it. After all the other things we did, we can do this. And then we won’t have to be apart anymore.”

Jack held Mark, humming happily into his boyfriend’s hair, his eyes slipping closed. He didn’t fall asleep, comfortable as he was holding Mark. The water was growing cooler, the bubbles starting to pop. Eventually, he gave a little shiver and nudged Mark in the side. “We should probably do that shower now,” he murmured. “I could use some hot water again.” And then curl up in bed together, warm and clean, and actually fall asleep. “How do you want to do this?” They’d need to drain the tub. The bubbles might last long enough, like in a cartoon, delicately placed over certain areas to provide coverage, or maybe they could just start the tub draining and turn on the shower before it had finished anyway.

Mark stirred with a sleepy grumble and a broad yawn. He peeled his face from Jack’s chest, pushing onto hands and knees. He sat back on his knees and toes so he could run a hand through his damp hair. There was a sigh at the edge of his words. “I think… I think if I get out, and close the shower curtain, I can wait out there okay while you drain the tub and set up the shower. Once you’re settled again I can come back in… That way, I’m the one initiating. Everything I do will be because I _want_ to do it. And… and maybe, if I get comfortable enough, we can look at each other. Or touch. But at first, we can’t. We _can’t,_ or my hold on it might slip and I’ll panic. This is… it’s a lot different from _this._ I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense. But…” Mark bit his lip.

Mark was kneeling over him. There were still enough bubbles and water to cover everything important, but Jack still let his eyes skim up Mark’s bare chest and fought the urge to lick his lips. Mark was so fucking gorgeous. Jack couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to get to touch and hold the other man. “You’re in charge,” he said, grabbing the edges of the bath and pulling himself into more of a sitting position. He reached up for Mark, drawing him down into a gentle kiss. “I’ll look away. Make sure there are plenty of towels and stuff around outside in case we need to abandon shower in a hurry?”

“Yeah… yeah, good idea.” Mark let himself sink back into Jack’s lips for a moment, then a second.

After stealing one last kiss, Jack scooted himself away from Mark and turned around so his back was to his boyfriend. As much as he wished Mark would let him see the rest of his body, he wouldn’t steal a glimpse. He had already seen all of Mark, anyway. The whole point of wanting it was wanting Mark to _let_ him. He wanted to be allowed to look, so he could stop feeling so guilty over thoughts of Mark’s naked body that slipped into his mind (especially late at night, when he was alone in his too-cold bed).

Jack waited until he heard the curtain swish closed before turning around again. “I’m okay. Go ahead and switch things over in there,” Mark called from the other side. Jack’s knees were already aching just from the minute he’d spent kneeling, so he let himself flop to the side to get off his bruises. He popped the drain of the tub, and the water started to swirl down, sucking bubbles with it.

“Just lemme know when you’re good to go.”

Jack may have splashed in the bubbles a little bit. Just a little. He was tempted to give himself another Santa beard, but then remembered that these were not clean bubbles. Santa beards could wait.

Once the bath was about half-drained, and Jack was shivering from being wet and now exposed to more of the air, he pushed himself to his feet and turned the tap on again. The sudden rush of hot water over his feet was a welcome change, and he quickly switched it up to the shower. Jack stood under the spray, letting the hot water rinse away any lingering bubbles, plastering his hair to the sides of his face. He skimmed his hands down his body to sluice off any remaining bath water, frowning at how discolored his legs were. Mark had left large purple bruises across his thighs, but those were shallow and barely even ached when he poked at them. It was the greeny-black bruises on his knees and shins that _really_ hurt. They were almost the same color as his right hand.

He turned around and walked to the back of the tub, reluctantly leaving the warmth of the water. The hot spray was already warming the air, though, so that was good. “Okay,” he called to Mark. “I’m in the back of the tub, facing away from the shower, so...come in whenever. And I promise, I don’t hurt nearly as bad as I look like I should.”

“All right, I’m coming in.” It still took Mark a good half minute to start moving. “Sorry, zoned out a little. I’m coming in.” Mark took a deep breath and slipped into the shower at the front. Hot water immediately drenched him all over again and he sighed at the sweet relief. “Ohhhh yeah… that’s the stuff…” Jack listened to Mark reveling in the shower, but then Mark turned and stepped closer to him, his breathing growing ragged. “Jack…”

“It's okay, Mark.” Jack curled his arms over his chest, feeling Mark's presence behind him. “It's just me. You're safe…”

_Don't touch my shoulder._

The thought was sudden and sharp, and Jack lifted his head quickly. He hadn't been naked in the bathroom, but his pants had been down. The Ship-Sinker had been behind him, clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder, reaching between his legs.

“Mark, I need to turn around, I need to, I need...I can't have you behind me right now, I need to turn around..."

Mark wasn't _them_. Mark wasn't. He wasn't. He was safe, he wasn't going to hurt Jack.

“ _Mark_ …”

Mark took a step back. “Jack? ...okay. Okay. You can turn around, just.'ll l l".. eye contact. Okay? You _can’t_ look down Jack, please.”

Jack turned around quickly, before even confirming eye contact. His body was shaking with little tremors and his eyes were wide, showing just how close he was to a panic attack of his own. He still managed to nod and swallow and offered Mark a shaky smile, not looking down. "Okay, okay, I'm...I'm okay. I just...hi."

Mark flinched and startled, but he was already calming as he looked at Jack’s face. "Hi... you're beautiful." Mark put up his own shaky smile for Jack.

Just looking at Mark helped Jack. He squeezed his elbows and shivered a little. “Sorry. I, um...He came up behind me. I just...Sorry. It's not you. It's _not_. It's just...standing in a bathroom. With another guy behind me. Sorry…”

“It’s okay, Jack. It’s okay. Really. I’d be a damn hypocrite if I got mad at you… I should’ve realized what our position would do to you. Trauma’s trauma. Doesn’t matter what happened or how long ago…  _I’m_ sorry. For not thinking about _you_ more.” Hesitantly, Mark reached out to brush fingertips across one of Jack's pecs. "...this is okay? You sure you're okay? I'm... _I'm_ okay."

"I didn't even think of it myself, Mark, until you were there…” Jack took a deep breath and let his arms drop from protectively hugging his own chest as Mark's fingers brushed against his skin.

“I'm...yeah. I'm, I'm okay now. This is...You can touch. You can be in front of me. Just...Just not behind. Without pants."

"I understand. It's okay. We'll be more careful."  
  
Jack inched a little closer, lifting his arms and then letting them drop again. "Can...can I hug you?" It would put them close, press their bodies together, but even though Jack wasn't about to panic, he really wanted to feel Mark's arms around him and confirm that he was safe and loved.

Mark hesitated again. "I don't... I don't know if I could handle that yet, like this, I..." He paused to think.. "...I could hug you? Just, it might take a minute, while I find a position I'm okay with. But you could huddle up close against my chest. Just... keep your arms to yourself?"

Jack nodded. Being hugged was good, just about as good as a mutual hug. He stepped closer, hesitated, and then twisted his whole body so when he leaned against Mark, it was with his hip and not his crotch. He breathed a small sigh of relief when he made contact with Mark's thigh and not anywhere more private. That had been the biggest challenge without looking. Now that that landmine was out of the way, Jack curled his arms against his chest and leaned against Mark's. "Okay?" he asked, dropping his cheek to Mark's shoulder. _Please be okay..._

Slowly, Mark lifted his arms to curl them around Jack. One tucked itself around the back of Jack's narrow shoulder blades. The other wrapped itself in a downward shift along his mid-back. Mark paused to let them both adjust before tightening his hold and pulling Jack's body closer to his chest. Mark breathed as the hot water cascaded down over his own back; their shoulders. "...okay... okay. I'm okay." A pause as his fingertips pressed into places he knew were safe from bruises. "...you okay?"

Jack nodded against Mark's shoulder, relaxing in his arms. It felt good to be back under the warm shower again, and even better to be wrapped in Mark at the same time. He closed his eyes and brushed his lips against the side of Mark's neck, moving slowly and carefully because of his nose. "Thank you..."

Mark shivered but held Jack a bit tighter and slowly rubbed his cheek, his jaw line, against the wet locks of green. "Thank _you_." He kissed the top of Jack's head.

Jack shifted away from Mark enough to tip his head back, silently begging for a proper kiss.

Mark hesitated, but then he dipped down to press their lips together; careful of Jack's nose.

Jack indulged in the kiss until the last bit of tension was sluiced down the drain. He kept his hands curled against his own chest and broke the kiss with a soft murmur. "Bed?" he suggested to Mark, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Please." Mark mumbled back. He grudgingly removed an arm from around Jack to reach around blindly for the shower dial and eventually switched off the spray.

"Towels?" Jack didn't want to pull away from Mark. Mark was warm and good against him, and Jack wished they could just be magically transported to the bed, warm and dry without needing to move. Reluctantly, he stepped away, reaching up to squeeze as much water from his green hair as he could.

"Yeah..." Mark shook excess water from his dark hair and combed the strands back with his fingers. "...I... I was thinking, of trying to dye my hair again... For a new charity goal..."

"Really?" Jack glanced over at Mark with a grin. "That'd be cool! Want to try this week, while I'm here, or did you want to give it some more time?"

Going just a little pink, Mark was finally able to pass Jack a towel. Mark didn't even bother drying off himself, just immediately wrapped his around his waist. "Yeah. I... well, I hadn't thought about it, but maybe it'd be a good idea to do it while you're here... You could do the charity livestream with me. And if we hit the goal then you can help me out. With dyeing it."

Jack laughed, accepting a towel and scruffing it over his hair before wrapping it around his waist as well. "Would you seriously trust me to dye your hair?” He waved his bruised hand at Mark. “Or would I be holding your hands while a professional did it?" He bounced a little after climbing out of the tub. "I'd love to livestream with you! We're never actually done one together before, not from the same room! I'd always be so jealous when Bob or Wade joined you. Webcams aren't the same."

"Maybe I'll make two goals. First one is to dye my hair. Second is to have Mr. Jacksepticeye himself dye it. On camera."

Jack laughed again, picking up a second towel himself and wrapping it around his shoulders. "You have a lot more faith in my abilities than I do!" He understood why Mark would hope for it, though. Jack was able to touch Mark's hair now. He would be safer than a stylist.

"No, I just have a lot of faith in _you_." Mark shot Jack a tender smile before scrubbing water from his face. He stepped out of the tub a bit more gingerly and grabbed a second towel to dry his hair with. "We can do it from my studio. Just you, me and Chica. I'd rather have someone with me anyway and no offense to Tyler or Ethan or anyone but if I had a first pick, it’d definitely be you. You could even set a few goals for yourself."

"Let's do it. We'll have to explain this, though..." Jack touched his face, beside his nose. Not too many details had escaped, thankfully. Felix and Marzia had been targeted. The suspected kidnapper had been apprehended assaulting a con-goer in a bathroom. Jack and Mark had so far managed to keep their involvement quiet, but it was only a matter of time before it got out. Jack wouldn't be able to hide his broken nose once he was back in Ireland. "I don't mind if you're okay with it."

"We'll do it. My mind's made up now. There's no going back." Letting the damp towel hang over his shoulder, Mark stepped forward to gently brush fingers over the bruises on Jack's face. After a second of thought, he leaned in to kiss one. "We should tell them the truth. Maybe not the _whole_ truth. But about you getting attacked. We can spare any details you want. Like this, it just looks like the guy punched you out... But I think the fans should know you're a survivor, too."

Jack closed his eyes at the kiss, reaching up to trace his fingers over Mark's bare chest. Mark was so strong and filled out again. Jack _loved_ his muscles. He had never even considered the advantages of a lover stronger than him until the first time Mark had picked him up and pinned him to a wall. "We need to tell them _you_ took him out. _You_ won against the Ship Sinker. Because that's the most important part." Jack pressed his hands flat against Mark's chest, palms over his lover's nipples. Jack loved Mark's body, period. He'd love Mark without it, of course he would...but it was far too nice to just write off completely.

Mark's expression softened. "Okay. Okay, we'll tell them. But the fact you didn't let that asshole manipulate you is important too. The fact you're here, and happy, and pulling through the after-effects is so important, Sean. You know I'm not just saying that."

"I know," Jack said quietly. He leaned in to brush his lips against Mark's. "I _do_ know. And I will. I'll reassure them all that I look worse than I am and you were my hero, and I'll bat my eyes at you and drive the shippers crazy..." Jack looked at Mark, meet his dark eyes, frowned a little. "Are you going to be okay with a livestream with challenges and rewards? Doing things...doing things for the entire internet to see if they hit certain numbers?" It was too close to the website for Jack to just brush it off, but Mark hadn't actually visited the website as far as Jack knew. Maybe it would be okay.

"No one's going to be making me do anything, Jack. No one's going to force me. I can walk off camera and take a break if I need it. I can be comfortable. I'll choose specific challenges I know I won't have a problem doing... And if anything goes seriously wrong, I don't think people will be too upset if we have to end it early. But having you there will be a major help. Having you there... it'll stop my mental space from going to a bad place. You can keep me grounded." Mark settled his hands on Jack’s shoulders and gave them a loving squeeze. "I trust you."

Mark didn't know. Jack opened his mouth, then closed it and moved in for a hug. "We're going to your place tomorrow, right?"  
  
He'd tell Mark. But not here. At home, with Chica to hug and familiar surroundings to ground him.

Mark returned the embrace with an extra squeeze. "Yeah. This is the last night we have reserved for the hotel. We'll be driving back tomorrow. We could even stop for a bite on the way? I know a ton of great places."

"I'll let you surprise me," Jack said, closing his eyes and trying to take a deep breath. He huffed. "Broken noses _suck_." He couldn't smell Mark very well with his nose all swollen, even if Mark would largely smell like bubbles.

Mark chuckled softly. "Sorry. We could grab some more ice for it? Might help with the swelling..."

“Nah.” Jack shook his head after the kiss, smiling at the affection. “Don’t wanna freeze my nose right before bed. If it’s still bad tomorrow, I’ll make up an ice bag for the ride home. For now… bed so you can snuggle me better?" He turned a blue-eyed pout up to his boyfriend.

Mark gave Jack another quick peck on the lips. "Bed. You wanna take your clothes and get dressed out there? It'll only take me a second, and then I can join you."

Jack gave Mark a peck on the cheek and stepped back. “Don’t worry about walking in on me. I’ll pull my pants on first, so you can come out whenever.” He gathered up his clothes and left the bathroom.

In the hotel room, Jack dried off as quickly as he could, then pulled his clothes on. He sat on the edge of the bed and pushed up his pants legs, prodding at the green and yellow bruises across his shins and knees just because. It hurt if he poked them too much. Not like when he poked his thighs. “Ow. Ow. Ow.” He really should stop poking them. “Ow.”

“Jack?” There was a hint of concern in Mark’s voice as he wandered out of the bathroom. He stopped in front of Jack with a surprised blink. “Having fun there?”

“More fun than I should be.” Jack prodded his shin again. “Ow.” He looked up at Mark with a guilty little smile. “I look so gross. Or cool. I’m sorta tempted to take pictures for possible future thumbnail usage?” He tilted the end of the statement up, turning it into a question for Mark’s opinion. “I mean, these colors aren’t easy to replicate, and my legs look all septic…”

Mark shook his head with an affectionate smile. “Goober. I dunno about _cool,_ but you don’t look gross either. You just look like a little Irish green bean poking his bruises like a big ol’ dum-dum. But if you wanna snap some pics I’m not gonna stop you.”

Jack stuck out his tongue at Mark, but he stopped poking at his bruises to reach for his phone by the bed. They’d still be green in the morning, just like his face. Like his hand. He frowned at the mottled colors on his right hand. “...I should probably put my splint back on.” Where had he left that? There, by the tv. He gestured. “Can you get it for me?”

“Huhuh, yeah, good idea. Don’t wanna be a stoop like me and forget to put your sling back on after you just get out of the hospital….” Mark fetched the little splint for Jack and then joined him on the bed with a soft huff of an exhale. “You gonna be okay sleeping with that on again? It can’t be comfortable.”

“It’s not the _most_ comfortable, but it’s a hell of a lot better than accidentally bumping or sleeping on my hand,” he sighed. “I did that in the shower once, and it _hurt_. Not bad bad, but like a throbbing that didn’t go away for _ages.”_

Jack took a few selfies pulling different faces, grimacing at his own bruises. “Jesus, Mark, how can you stand to look at me right now? I look like a blind makeup challenge victim or something!” He took the splint from Mark and started strapping it back on.

Mark looked to Jack and waited until he was finished wrapping the splint to take his injured hand. He gently brushed his thumb over the bruises there but his eyes never left Jack’s as he mustered up an encouraging smile. “You looked at me back then. In the hospital. In the rain. I looked- fuck it, I _was_ a man on Death’s door, Jack. I probably looked like a corpse someone had dug up and stuck a sheet on in that hospital bed. But you never stopped looking at me. And you never stopped loving me; forget the kind of love it was. You still cared. _I_ care. And I love you. The bruises will go away and I’ll _still_ love you. I’m just happy you’re here with me. Not in the hospital, not in intensive care, not…”

Mark lifted his free hand to gently hold Jack’s chin. His lips were trembling while his face scrunched up with a watery puff of air. “...y’know. I’m just glad you’ll be okay.” His voice cracked. _Fuck._ “Sorry, sorry. I’m such a baby, oh my god. If I start crying just shove me off the bed or something goddamn.”

“Mark…” Jack leaned over to plug his phone in again, then turned back to wrap his arms around his boyfriend. “Mark, I didn’t mean...” He had meant it just as a joke, but Mark took it seriously. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I _will_ always love you. Back then… back then I was just so happy that _you_ were alive, and in hospital and safe and… it didn’t matter what you _looked_ like, you were _safe._ ”

Careful of his nose, Jack pressed a kiss to Mark’s cheek. “Mark, it’s okay. I don’t doubt that you love me, no matter how I look. I’m just glad you’re not cringing when you look at me. Your face wasn’t nearly as screwed up as mine is.”

Mark returned Jack’s embrace and pressed his face into Jack’s hair. “That’s exactly how I feel looking at you right now. It doesn’t matter if your face is worse or if your injuries aren’t. Or if you’re not laying in a hospital bed attached to fifty different wires and IV’s. I love you. And I’m not gonna cringe away. Remember, you’re talking to a guy that had plenty worse to cringe away from in the past year… including himself... myself… whatever! Jack, I would stare at your _mutilated mug_ all day because it would mean I’d still have you here with me to look at in the first place.” He paused, mulling over his choice of words. Opened his mouth; shut it; opened it again. “...I could have phrased that better.”

“It is a very good thing I both love you and have known you for a long time,” Jack declared, squeezing his arms around Mark’s back. “Coming from you, that was very sweet.” He kissed Mark’s neck and gave a sigh. “Let’s just go to bed?” he suggested. “I believe we were gonna do some post-bath cuddles?”

Mark chuckled a bit awkwardly. “Good. Cool. That’s what I was going for, so…. Guess you wouldn’t love me if you weren’t used to my awful Englishing skills by now.” He nuzzled at Jack’s hairline. “Bed. Cuddles. Right now. I second the motion and initiate the cuddle sequence.” Mark let loose a little _“nyroooom”_ sound effect as he dragged Jack down onto the bed, and Jack could only laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	63. Night 294: Hits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s one more torture Mark didn’t realize.

Jack hugged Mark against his chest, stroking fingers lazily over Mark’s sweaty back and over his scar. They were both relaxed and sated, dressed in clean pants after their latest escapade. He had been in L.A. for nearly an entire week, gorging himself on Mark’s presence. His face was no longer swollen, though it was still grossly discolored, same as his hand and the bruises on his knees. He had a whole host of other bruises decorating his chest and neck, courtesy of Mark’s enthusiastic passion for him. The livestream was tomorrow. Jack hoped none of them would show.

He needed to talk to Mark. He needed to talk to Mark _before_ the livestream. He’d been putting it off all week, never wanting to ruin the mood. Mark deserved a week of happiness. Jack felt like he’d earned it too. But the fact remained that the livestream tomorrow risked triggering a host of things, including one thing Mark had no idea about. Jack didn’t want to create a trigger, but he also didn’t want Mark to learn about it from chat. He sighed, closing his eyes.

“Mark?” Post-sex was a good time for Mark, usually. He was loose and calm and happy, snuggling into Jack’s neck, his fingers pressed against Jack’s tattoo. “Can we… there’s something I have to tell you. Before the livestream tomorrow.”

“Hm?” Rubbing his cheek against Jack’s chest, Mark stretched out his limbs a bit like a cat. He forcefully roused himself so as to supply Jack with more of his attention and grunted softly. “Jack? What's up? Are you having second thoughts?? If you're nervous about the bruises you don't have to join us…” Concerned, Mark lifted his head from Jack’s chest to look through blurry, half-lidded eyes at his boyfriend. They had invited Felix to join the livestream as well since he was in California for Blizzcon anyway. The King of YouTube had agreed to a little “holy trinity” special. 

“What? No, it's not… I'm not pulling out, Mark. I'll be there. I _want_ to be there. I do. And even if I didn't, I'd be there for you anyway.” Jack smoothed the backs of his knuckles over Mark’s cheek and smiled at him, tinged with a only little sadness. “It's just...there's something you don't know. And I don't want you to find out accidentally, or in public, like in a livestream. I wanted to tell you before, so you could...you'd have a chance to react without needing to worry about having your reaction seen. Because…” Jack hesitated, then flinched as he said the next words. “It's about _that_ website…” The emphasis was all Jack should need for Mark to know exactly what he was talking about. _That_ website. The one with all his torture porn, shared with the entire world. Jack could feel his eyes burning as he thought about it. 

“Oh… okay….” Mark’s eyes closed for another brief moment, turning his head to kiss Jack’s knuckles. He forced his eyes open and focused on Jack again.

“There was… there was a hit counter…”

Mark blinked, then let out an awkward little chuckle. “A.. a hit counter? Haha, Jack, what are you talking about? ‘Hit counter’? Why would there be a hit counter? What would that even do I mean it sounds pointless to me putting something like that on a site when it's not even gonna… not even gonna do anything….” Mark’s face slowly fell. Pained, brown eyes gazed up at Jack imploringly. “It… _didn't_ matter. Right? Tell me it was pointless, Jack. Please.”

Jack couldn't lie to Mark. His own face was crumpling into misery as he reached for Mark to draw him close again. “They'd post a new picture every twenty-five hits,” he whispered. “A new video every hundred. I don't know...I _know_ the pictures and videos weren't the most current.”

Jack knew that from his horrific birthday present, the high-res photos of Mark in suggestive poses, naked and bloody and bruised. They'd broken Mark's finger in that photoset, but the break didn't turn up on the website for another week. “They were at least days behind the actual. But I don't know if they...If they did things to you specifically for milestones on the website or not.”

Mark looked sick, and Jack squeezed his eyes shut, hugging Mark tight. “I'm sorry, Mark. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry…”

“...so… what you're saying is… if no one had visited that website, they'd never… there wouldn't have been any….They knew. I'm… I'm gonna be sick- I need- Jack, excuseme-” Mark shakily pulled out of Jack’s arms and nearly fell from the bed. He stumbled, catching himself and quietly dry heaving. Mark fell to his knees in front of the little waste bin he kept by his desk in the bedroom and promptly lost his half-digested dinner.

Jack _was_ crying now, because he had done it too. Every damn day, he’d been on that website. He, personally, was responsible for at least two extra photos of Mark’s humiliation. Probably more. He had tried to limit himself to just one visit a day once he’d learned about the hit counter mechanics, but there were some days where he had to check again. Too many days.

Still, he pulled away from the bed himself, crossing the room to drop by Mark’s side and support him, one arm around his back, the other pushing his floofy hair out of his face. How many times had he been bent over a bin, with no one there to hold him? “I’ll get you some water,” he said. “When you’re done here, I’ll get you a glass and you can rinse your mouth out.” There was nothing else he _could_ do, nothing else that could possibly make this okay.

Mark didn't heave for very long, but by the time he was done, he was definitely sobbing. His knuckles, still a little bruised and scabbed over, were bone white from how tightly his hands were clutching the bin. 

Mark leaned back away from the bin. He leaned into Jack’s arm for support. “Glasses, gl-glasses Jack please, I can't, it's too….” Mark hiccuped; face a flushed mess of tears and snot and a few flecks of what he'd deposited into the can. “...t-too much, I can't breathe right, need…”

“Okay,” Jack said. “Okay. Here, sit back, lean against the wall. I’ll be right back with your glasses.” He helped Mark shift against the wall, then bounced to his feet and crossed the room to snatch Mark’s glasses and a box of tissues off the bedside table. He returned to kneel beside Mark, offering him tissues first, to dry his eyes, and then the glasses. He didn’t bother trying to wipe his own face. Not yet.

Mark sank against the wall. He'd already started scrubbing at his face with his hands like a little kid by the time Jack returned with tissues. Belatedly, he he used them to clean himself up a little. He was still crying, but most of the mess was gone. Mark sniffled and took a moment to blow his nose into one before slipping on his glasses.

“Do you want me to get Chica?” Jack asked. He was hovering anxiously, not sure if he could touch Mark again, if he _should_ touch Mark again, if he _deserved_ to touch Mark again. Chica, though, she was innocent of any pain inflicted on Mark. “I can bring her here, you can hold her tight…”

Mark slumped further down the wall with a fresh bout of sniffling then changed his mind and tugged his knees up to his chest instead. Mark buried his face there but was sure to give Jack a quick, emphatic nod first.

“Okay,” Jack said. “Okay. I'll be right back with her. I'll turn the lights on too.

With one final look at Mark, Jack pushed himself to his feet and hurried out the door, turning on the light on his way out. He wanted to get Chica to Mark as quickly as he could, so he opened her crate and got out of her way. “Go on, sweetheart. Your daddy needs you.” Chica bolted past him, heading upstairs with a jingle of tags.

Jack took a detour to the kitchen to get a glass of water for Mark, wiping his face on his arm as best he could. He sniffed loudly and wiped his face again, then headed back upstairs slowly with the glass.

Jack was relieved to see Chica was protecting Mark when he returned to the room. Mark seemed calmer, his arms around his dog. Jack came up to sit beside Mark again, offering him the glass. “Good girl, Chica. Thank you for taking care of Mark for me.”

Mark nuzzled at Chica’s fur some more but eventually pulled away to accept the glass. He didn't respond to Jack right away. He took time to swish out his mouth once or twice, spitting into the trash can, and then Mark nearly polished off the rest. He let the smooth lip drop from his mouth with a relieved exhale. His face was red and splotchy, his eyes were puffy and swollen and he was still sniffling a little, but he'd stopped crying.

Chica had Mark covered, so Jack didn't try to offer him a hug or anything. He still wasn't sure if he should be here, or if Mark would want him to keep his distance for the time being. “How are you doing?” he asked quietly.

Mark stared down into the minuscule remains of his glass for a few moments longer before speaking. His voice was rough and wet. “...better. Not freaking out anymore. Thanks.” Mark downed the last sip or two and set the glass aside. He returned immediately to hugging Chica close. He wasn't looking _at_ Jack, but he wasn't pointedly looking away either. Mark’s gaze was a bit distant; unfocused.

“...you know I love you. You know I don't blame you for anything that happened. You know I'd forgive you for almost _anything_ at this point.” Mark dragged his cheek up and down Chica’s neck. She returned the gesture with an affectionate snort into his hair. “...I just want to know why. _Why._ Why did everyone keep looking why did they keep _coming_ if they knew…. If they cared so much then why didn't they stop?” His voice cracked. 

“I couldn’t,” Jack said quietly. “I couldn’t _not_ look. I needed to see you were still alive. Still fighting Or…” He swallowed, picking at the fabric of his pants. “Or after a point, I wanted to see if you had died yet.”

Mark knew Jack had wished Mark dead after a certain point. He had assured Jack that he didn’t blame Jack for it at all, that he had wished he were dead too… but sometimes Jack wished he had. Jack took a shaky breath and drew his legs up, pressing his forehead to his knees. “I tried to only look once a day, to at least limit myself that way. I _did_. I just… sometimes I needed to see you more.”

“I understand….”

There was a slightly positive side, though. “Wade never looked. _Never_. He saw the first pictures, before you woke up for the first time, and said he didn’t want to see more, didn’t want to see what they did to you. Bob or I’d give him updates when he asked how you were doing. Bob would… not often, but every now and then, he’d need to check for himself. Tyler was the same. Felix… Felix only looked if I had a breakdown over something I saw, so he could know what to say to get me away from the bottle. And the Grumps… when the Grumps would look, they’d all look together, so they only counted as one. That’s… that’s all I know for sure.” Mark’s friends, at least, had let Jack be the one to check every day, relying on what he said instead of looking for themselves.

“I don’t know about your community… it took a while for people to realize the update pattern. And even then, not everyone knew. I _do_ know there was… there was a mirror site made.” Jack bit his lip. “Some of your followers had… they hoped making a second, not-counted site would drive less traffic to the real one. I don’t know how successful it was.” The Ship Sinker website had still had hundreds of hits every damn day. Jack didn’t know how much worse it would have been without the second site.

“So… some people didn’t know, and some people didn’t care, and that’s…” Jack sighed. “I asked them not to. In a vlog. I asked them not to look, not to share. I don’t know if that helped or hurt…”

Silently, Mark uncurled an arm from around Chica. He let his hand drop to the floor where it inched out as far as he could reach. His hand rested there for a moment next to Jack before rolling over to lay palm-up; fingers slightly curled. He still wasn’t looking at Jack. “...baby steps…. You can’t change the past. Right?”

Jack pressed his palm against Mark’s and gave a small nod. “I’m sorry, Mark. And I’m sorry… sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t realize you didn’t know until… just a couple days ago, and then you were so happy and I didn’t want to…” Jack’s eyes were still wet with tears, and he was still hovering on the verge of another sob, but he was managing to keep himself together. Barely. Mark was the one who deserved to be upset right now. “I’m sorry.”

Mark curled his fingers until they could hook onto Jack’s. His thumb curved up and around to brush gently at the back of Jack’s hand. He squeezed. “I appreciate that you regret it. That you’re sorry. I _do._ Because I bet a lot of people don’t.” Mark gently coaxed Chica to lay down across his lap. His free hand immediately tangled fingers into her fur.

“...but I won’t hold it against you. Looking, and not telling me for so long. I can’t. I would’ve done the same.” Mark let his hand drag down along Chica’s back; over and over. “You don’t have to keep being sorry. I already forgave you. I’ll forgive the others, too. And my community…. I’m not.. I won’t just _get over it._ I’m not that optimistic. But letting it make me bitter or spiteful or hateful towards people I don’t even know would be wrong. It’d be another way of letting **_them_** win. I never want to let them win anything again. We started it at Blizzcon, and I’m gonna keep it rolling with this. _You can’t change the past._ ” Mark stated the phrase again; definitively. He watched his crooked, scarred fingers comb through golden fur.

Then he looked over to Jack with another reassuring squeeze. “But you can pick out how you let it affect you. And define you. And… and I sound like the protagonist of the most cliche inspiring action movie ever, Jack. I’m sorry. This is so lame, _I’m_ so lame but I don’t know how to words right and…” Mark huffed; wet and affectionate and exasperated at himself. “...I really don’t want you to cry anymore.”

“You’re not lame, Mark,” Jack said quietly. “You are the strongest person I know, with the biggest heart, and…” He sighed, squeezing Mark’s hand back. “I’m… I’m grateful you forgive me. I _am_. But I don’t think it’s going to be that easy to forgive myself. I’ve been trying to push it down and ignore it, but…”

But when poked, his memories of that dark time came oozing right back up, like pus from an infection. Jack hated who he had become while Mark was in the room. He hated spending his nights in a drunken stupor, hated hurting Mark more with every click on that website, hated ignoring all the comments and questions. He was proud that he had managed to not break his schedule, but at the same time, he was disgusted with the content he had created during that time. If it hadn’t been for Robin’s techno-wizardry, his channel would have collapsed in a steaming pile of rubbish. Jack knew Robin was the only reason his videos had been not all that bad in the community’s eyes. _He_ knew what the footage was like when he sent it to his editor.

“Sean McLoughlin, have you been skipping your therapy meetings?” Mark tried to ask the rhetorical question with some humor in his tone but the joke fell a little flat. He sighed. “Big lesson mine wouldn’t shut up about: pushing things down and ignoring them only makes them worse. So…” Mark tilted his own head so he could press a feather light kiss to Jack’s hair. He shifted and adjusted their hands until he could successfully interlock their fingers and squeeze again. “There’s a lot of nasty stuff you’ve been dealing with too. And I haven’t been strong enough to help you through it the way you’ve been helping me. I wanna change that. I wanna help _you_ get better now, Jack. It won’t be tonight. It probably won’t be for a while. But promise me you’ll try to start?”

“I haven’t been skipping my meetings,” Jack assured Mark with a little shake of his head. “I just… there’s always been more important things to talk about. But… I’ll bring it up next time. I promise. I hate feeling like this. I really do want to get better too.” Jack sighed and closed his eyes, letting himself just _rest_ for a moment. Jack was not proud of who he had been and the choices he had made. But Mark forgave him. Mark forgave him and didn’t want him to cry anymore. Jack sagged over, letting his head brush against Mark’s shoulder. “Can we… can we just go back to bed? Chica can join us.”

“We’ll go to bed- _with_ Chica, yes bub, you can come too. But… I think we should try to talk about this. At some point. Just the two of us… and maaaybe Chica….”

When Jack opened his eyes again, he gave Mark’s hand a squeeze and pulled himself to his feet. “Bed?” he asked, holding out his other hand to Mark.

Mark smiled and took Jack’s second hand without hesitation. “Bed. C’mon, Chica-bica. Gotta get up. Let your daddy up or you can’t join him on the bed with Jack, bub.” There was a lot of huffing and whining, but Chica eventually moved. Mark rose to his feet and then took advantage of the hold he had on both of Jack’s hands.

He pulled Jack in close to peck a kiss against his forehead. “Love you. A lot.” Mark let his lips brush over the bridge of Jack’s nose. He gave a little tug; maneuvering them both back around towards the bed. “Only cuddles and sleep now. No more talking. Unless it’s cheesy declarations of love or telling me how fucking amazing I am.” The corner of his mouth twitched up a bit higher; the ghost of a smirk. “ _Maybe_ I’ll even say the same about you.”

Jack managed a weak smile as he finished drawing Mark into the bed. They arranged the blankets around them and wrapped around each other again. Jack could feel Chica settle down over their feet. He tucked himself against Mark’s chest and closed his eyes. “I love you, Mark Fischbach,” Jack whispered, fingers dipping down across Mark’s back to find the scar. “ _Always._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	64. Night 308: Playtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack got lonely.

A month. It had been nearly a _month_ since Jack last saw Mark. And it was going to be nearly another month before he saw him again. In person. Their Skype call last night didn’t count. Jack rolled back and forth on his bed, hating how big it was. Hating how much he missed Mark. That last night in California…

Jack closed his eyes, his mind conjuring up memories. Memories of Mark being a complete playful _dick_ after the livestream, good moods restored all around. Of Jack threatening to spank him into obedience and Mark asking if he had to call Jack daddy. Of the complete shock on both of their faces when Mark had then gone scarlet and whispered _...I’m so hard right now_.

Jack hadn’t spanked Mark. He didn’t think he _could_ , if he were being honest. Not after everything Mark had gone through. Even if Mark asked for it, even if Mark _begged_ him, in that made-for-sex voice… no. Jack couldn’t lift a hand to _hit_ Mark, even if it were meant to be pleasurable for both of them.

What Jack _had_ done was push Mark against a wall (consensually), and they had _attempted_ to explore Mark’s apparent daddy kink, but Mark couldn’t stop laughing, which triggered Jack to laugh, and really, it had ended up being sloppy, half-naked sexy fun times with their pants on the floor-- _completely_ \--and Jack pressed inbetween Mark’s legs as Mark jacked them both off.

Their pants had been on the floor. Jack bit his lip at the memory, remembering how it felt to press up against Mark’s naked dick, Mark’s thighs spread around his, Mark pinned against the wall. He let his hand creep down in the dark, curving over the front of his boxers and stroking slowly. It had been the furthest they’d gotten outside of the bathtub. Jack still hadn’t _looked_ at Mark’s exposed body, still hadn’t seen the scars he now knew were slashed into that abused skin, but Mark had let himself _be_ exposed. That was just one step closer to full-blown _sex_ sex. It was one step closer to making that level of intimacy possible, and not just some distant, far-off fantasy.

Jack pushed his boxers down and kicked the duvet off. If he was going to fantasize about Mark instead of sleep, he might as well make things comfortable. He spread his legs and bent his knees, planting his feet on the bed, and took a deep breath.

If they actually did have sex… _when_. _When_ they actually did have sex, Mark would be on top. Jack knew that, had known that… _wanted_ that. He cupped his balls in his hand, massaging gently, rubbing at a little itch in his pubes. Jack had _liked_ pushing Mark against the wall, and he already knew he liked _warm_ and _slick_ and _tight_ around his dick… but Mark pressing up against his ass always did something weird to him. It sparked fresh little bursts along his spine, it made his mouth water and his dick jump...and it made him feel empty. Empty and desperately _needing_ to be filled. Jack gave one last tug to his balls before letting his hand wander further down.

Mark had rubbed over his hole just once, in the tub at the hotel. He’d been exploring Jack’s body and touched him _here_ , rubbed his finger around the edge and Jack’s breath had wooshed out, his muscles tensing, and he could _feel_ his ass twitch beneath his finger, as if it was trying to pull it in. Jack could barely force any air in his lungs as he toyed with himself. Should he? _Should he?_

...yes.

Yes, he should, because he wanted, _needed_ to know. He needed to know what it was going to be like. And he needed to know _before_ Mark was here, before _Mark_ was doing this to him. If he yelped or jumped or if it surprised him in any way, he’d throw Mark off. He’d make Mark scared he was being hurt, and Mark would stop. He needed to know so he could prepare himself.

Jack drew his hand away and leaned over for his bedside table. When rummaging around in the drawer didn’t reveal what he was looking for, he flipped his lamp on so he could see. There, tucked in the back behind his glasses case, was a bottle of lube he’d bought online, along with a bunch of other random stuff so it wouldn’t look too suspicious. Or maybe more suspicious. How the fuck was he supposed to know? He used a pseudonym to order it, at least, but he did that with everything he ordered online, just to make sure nobody could tie his name to his address that way.

He didn’t usually bother with _lube_ when he masturbated: a bit of lotion was all he needed. If he was gonna try sticking his fingers _inside_ him, though, he figured it was best to use the right stuff. Now… how did this work? He’d already opened the bottle and peeled off the little foil seal because he’d wanted to sniff it. It smelled fine. A little like licorice. Not like Mark. Not at all. (Jack had a scented candle that smelled sort of like Mark. It was called ‘Mountain Lodge.’ He had no idea what scent it actually was.)

It didn’t have to smell like Mark. It was going on his fingers and then going in his butt, and then Jack was not about to sniff his fingers after that. He blushed, but there was no one to see. Okay. So. Pop the lid open, squeeze some into his hand, and… get it on his finger? Fingers? All of them at once? Jack had done some research on this, but there was a difference between “make sure you have lube” and actually _applying_ it. He settled on rolling his finger around the little puddle in his palm, then added some more and doing more fingers anyway, just to be safe. Two. He’d try to get up to two tonight.

Okay. Lube applied. Jack took a deep breath and reached between his legs again. He poked and prodded until he found his hole and gave it another little rub. Again he twitched, his hips instinctively pushing against it. _Fuck. Why am I such a natural bottom?_ It really wasn’t fair. Just because he wasn’t hyper buff like Mark didn’t mean he wasn’t masculine!

And just because he was gonna take it up the arse didn’t mean he wasn’t masculine either. This was fine. It was _fine._ All he had to do was just keep rubbing, circling his finger around the hole and applying a bit more pressure, a bit more, until his finger slipped in. It felt, it felt...

Jack stopped, and then started to giggle. It felt like he had a finger up his butt, _because he did_. God, this was so stupid! What was he, twelve? (In his heart, yes.) He closed his eyes and took another deep breath. Okay. Fingers weren’t gonna be enough here. Lying on his bed and touching himself wasn’t good enough. He had to get his brain involved too. Mark. Mark would be doing this to him, crouched between his legs. Jack could just picture his expression now, those dark eyes wide behind his glasses, a look of disbelief on his face, mixed with his own giggles. He’d be watching _there_ , watching his finger pressing inside Jack’s ass. Jack spread his legs a little further at the thought, reaching down to hold his left thigh like he had in the hotel room. Mark liked to watch him beg. He’d be slow at first, teasing, just little presses of his finger in and out, pulling at Jack’s hole and making him twitch and squirm.

“Mark, _please_ …” The plea slipped out without Jack meaning for it to, but that was good. That was _good_ , because it helped him picture Mark even better, that heavy gaze flicking up to his, and then Mark would press his finger deeper and make Jack _gasp_ , “ _Oh_ ,” and then move harder, faster, just a little, just enough for Jack to feel it…

It felt like no time at all before Jack was twisting on the bed for an entirely different reason, _three_ fingers stretching his ass, his wrist bent at an awkward angle as he fucked himself and pretended it was his boyfriend. The abrupt chime of a Skype call snapped him out of his fantasy and his eyes flew open. His iPad, plugged in beside his bed, was ringing.

“Not now…” Jack grunted, flipping the cover open so he could cancel the call with his clean hand…

_Mark._

Mark was calling him. Mark was calling him _right now_ , and Jack could actually see him, hear his voice, his real voice, and screw the thousands of ways this was a bad idea: his hand moved automatically to accept the call. So what if he was shirtless and flushed? Mark knew he liked to sleep in boxers when not catering to Mark’s needs. That was perfectly normal. Jack bit his lip, chewing on it as the iPad connected the call.

Mark’s face filled his screen. He was in his recording room. Jack immediately found a smile, twisting his head to the side so he could drink in the image. “Hi, Mark,” he said, trying to ignore the fact that his cock was rock hard and dribbling onto his belly just off camera.

Mark beamed up at Jack from where he sat hunched over his desk. He’d folded his arms snugly in front of his keyboard to rest his chin on them. His hair was still a bit of a mess, probably from whatever frustrating game Mark had been recording. The brilliant red Jack had dyed a good chunk with flared up from Mark’s head like dancing flames. Sighing from his nose, Mark returned the smile with a hard-won ease. “Hey Jack. Didn't wake you up, did I?"

"Nah, was putting off actually going to sleep. Ready for it, but...nah. Bed was too empty." Jack didn't bother to be subtle as he looked Mark over. He twisted his fingers, trying to hide the hitch in his breathing. Yeah. Yeah, he was jacking off while chatting with his boyfriend. So what? It had been a _month_. And besides, _Mark_ interrupted _him_. He was just making it better, really. More real. "How are you doing?" _Talk to me, just talk to me, let me drown in your voice…_

"Pft. That's the Jack I know and love.” Mark’s eyes were aglow as he looked Jack over. “Mine too.”  
  
Mark sighed and turned his head so his cheek was pressing into his forearms. "I'm okay. Little lonely, I guess. That's sort of why I called. Besides just wanting to see you." He smiled again; all warm brown eyes and soft lips. "I've started plotting out the space for my new garden. Chica keeps trying to dig holes everywhere, though. If only I could channel her into where I _want_ the holes we'd be golden."

Mark was smiling and showing off his arms, wearing short sleeves for once, and Jack squirmed because the reality was even better than what his mind had created between his legs, even if Mark was five thousand miles away. "Heh, have you tried making it more tempting to dig where you want? I dunno, sprinkle chicken broth over it or something?"  
  
Mark snorted at the suggestion. "I think she'd just try to eat all the grass. Or lick it for an hour."

It was hard to focus on answering Mark back, and Jack bit his lip, just watching those soft eyes. He shouldn’t be doing this. Mark had camera-related sex issues. (Mark had camera-related issues _period_.) He deserved to know what Jack was actually doing.

"Mark, I, uh...I was a little lonely too. Thinking of you. And...uh..."

Mark’s expression became a little concerned. He lifted his head some and sat up a bit. "Jack...?"  
  
Jack glanced down, then back at Mark with a crooked grin. "I'm not wearing pants?" Would Mark understand what he meant by that?

Mark puffed out an exasperated breath and slumped back into his chair; showing off how the T-shirt hugged snugly around his muscular torso. Bangs drifted into his eyes from the action and he combed them back out of habit. "Oh my god, Jack, you nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought it was something serious you were about to unload on me here. We've had calls with you in nothing but boxers before."

Jack had to laugh at Mark's reaction, but that cut off abruptly when it made his body shake around the fingers he _still_ had buried inside him. He gave a little whimper both from the sensation and the sight of his boyfriend in a tight shirt that showed off his chest when he slumped back. Mark was _gorgeous_. Jack wished he were here. "No, Mark, I mean no _pants_." Like the proper use of the word, meaning underwear. "I _mean_ , dumbass, I'm not wearing fucking _anything_ , and I was lonely and thinking of you."

If Mark hadn't been so abused, it would have been funny to keep silent and see how long it would take Mark to realize what Jack was doing. He didn't want Mark to be oblivious to the fact that Jack was getting off right now, though, and looking at Mark through a highly charged sexual lens. If Mark didn’t get subtle, Jack would try to be more obvious, and if Mark didn’t get _that_ , Jack would spell it out and then make fun of him for weeks.

"Jack??" Mark's brow furrowed and his lips pushed into a light pout. "Sooo... you're naked?" He pressed his hands to the edge of his desk and leaned back as if it would give him a broader view of Jack.

"Oh." Slowly, Mark’s own face darkened with a blush. _“Oh.”_ He swallowed tightly as realization dawned. "I-I... shit, Jack, you should've said something. I can uh... I can hang up. Call you back later, or... tomorrow, maybe. Give you some privacy."

"Sorry, what?" Jack asked, tearing his eyes away from Mark's chest to look at his boyfriend's face. "You think I'd rather just be imagining you than talking with you? Fuck that!" Jack shook his head firmly. "Mark, I can...I can stop, if you're uncomfortable, or...I just didn't want you to be oblivious."  
  
Or he could continue, with Mark watching and _knowing_. Jack bit his lip; he'd definitely prefer that option. He wasn’t exactly an exhibitionist, but this was really only showing off for _Mark_. His _boyfriend_. And it wasn’t like Mark could see anything...

"I'm not... _uncomfortable_. I mean, not if you're sure that you... that you're okay. _With this._ I just... I didn't think you'd..." Mark rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck. He tried to smile for Jack. "You don't have to stop, Jack. I'm okay. I just wasn't sure about you, so... if you're good, then I'm good. Really. And... I appreciate you letting me know."

"To be fair, you interrupted me." Jack's eyes were caught by that arm again. Mark had seriously amazing arms. It wasn't fair. He was a _nerd_! (A nerd who could pick Jack up and press him against the wall.) "But I chose to answer. Don't think I'm upset about your call. And it's not like you can see anything from this angle..." Jack looked down again, spread his legs a little further as if he'd be able to see himself finger-fucking his own ass. "Fuck, Mark, I wish you were here..."

Mark's pout returned. "Me too. Or that you were at least here. I still miss you." He bit his lip. "I'm not... I don't really hear anything. I mean, anything obvious. What... what are you doing, exactly? I-if you don't mind me asking, uh..."

"You really want to know?" Jack was a bit breathless as he looked back at Mark. He _could_ angle the camera down and show him...or he could just tell him. That was probably the safer route right now. Mark still hadn't actually _seen_ Jack's naked dick, even if it was just on a screen five thousand miles away. He’d touched it, and felt it pressed up against his own, but Mark hadn’t looked down any more than Jack had.

Mark nodded silently at the question. His chin and mouth were once more tucked against the forearm he had laid out on his desk.

"I'm, ah..." With Mark showing interest, Jack pulled his fingers out and pressed them in again, shallowly thrusting as he spoke. "I...actually have...Jesus, why is this harder to say than it is to do!?" There was a deeper flush to Jack's face now, and he looked into Mark's eyes. "Don't laugh, okay? I'm...I'm fingering myself. Was imagining you doing it..."

Mark bit at his own arm to stifle another whine. Trembling just a smidgen, he forced himself to let go so he could reply. "...holy balls, Jack, that... that's... why the Hell is that so hot?! You have _fingers up your butt_." He almost giggled again. "Does it... does it really feel that good??"

Mark was trying so hard to stay calm, but Jack had gotten incredibly good at picking out subtle changes in his boyfriend's face. Especially in those expressive eyes. Mark was getting turned on from Jack's words, from what he was saying he was doing, and that helped chase away some of Jack's apprehension. Mark _liked_ it. Liked Jack with fingers up his butt.

Jack bit his lip and grinned at the wondrous way Mark phrased that. Like Mark couldn't believe Jack would do it. Would _want_ to do it. _Was_ doing it.

 _Did_ it feel good? Jack nodded, shifting on the bed and thrusting his fingers shallowly. "It's...I had to go _really_ slow at first, but now it's...mm..." How could he possibly describe this feeling to Mark? Mark who _knew_ what fingers up the butt felt like when they were not slow and careful and fully under your control.

"Remember... remember when you sucked on my finger? How did your mouth feel?" It was nothing like that at all, but at the same time, Jack remembered pressing his mouth over Mark's clothed dick, _needing_ the heat and weight inside him somehow. That need was sorta similar, that feeling of having something solid inside him, filling him...

Mark licked his lips at that. "...good. It was good. I liked it."  
  
Maybe that was just Jack though. He knew he was hungry for Mark in a way that Mark rarely expressed back...but then again, Mark did get his mouth on Jack a _lot_. "Or when you're biting at me, and you just... you _need_ to? Just, you _need_ to get your mouth on me, and it feels so _good_ when you finally do?"

"I... guess I might’ve had a need or two like that. I mean, not for _that,_ but… yeah."

“Yeah, it’s kinda new for me too, but it’s… yeah. Probably that strong...” Jack’s eyes were caught by Mark’s fingers, watching as he touched his lips and nipped at the digits. Was he thinking of biting Jack? Was he…?

"You said... you're pretending it's me, right? My hands on your ass... my fingers up there, pushing into you... I wonder if I could hit your prostate." Mark let the tip of his thumb rest between his lips thoughtfully.

Jack gave a moan at the thought that suddenly pushed into his mind, taking several tries to find his tongue before he spoke again, trying to articulate the images in his brain to his lover.

"Fuck, Jack...”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m pretending it’s you, your hand, your fingers, just _you_ between my legs and you’d have that _smirk_ on your face, that goddamn smirk that you always get when you’re making me fall apart, a little bit smug and a lot of just _staring_ at me like I’m the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen, and you just...you’d bite my leg. My thigh, because...because you need it and I need it and your hand’s busy, so…” Jack reached down to pinch at his thigh with his free hand, nowhere near as bruising as Mark would bite, but his eyes fluttered anyway before he forced them open again to look at Mark. “ _Fuck_ , Mark, you’re so fucking hot…”

When Mark spoke next his voice had dipped into the husky tone it always gained when he was aroused. "You mean like this? Think it's called a smolder, Sean."

“God _yes_ …” Mark’s smirk (sorry, _smolder_ ) always did funny things to Jack’s spine and made his dick twitch. The way Mark’s mouth curved and the possessiveness in his eyes...Jack shivered and thrust his fingers deeper. The angle was hampering him from doing what his body was really craving, but it was better than nothing at all.

Jack shifted on the bed, pinching his leg again as Mark bit into his own hand, imagining the red-haired man between his legs. Mark was shifting and fidgeting on the screen. Was he touching himself? Jack hoped so.

“It’s not...it’s not your _fingers_ I want, Mark.” Jack spread his fingers, his breath hitching at the stretch. “Though I’m sure they’d feel even better than mine. But I want...I want…” _Fuck me, please fuck me, Mark, fuck me against the wall, into the mattress, fly to Ireland and just PLEASE..._

“I know what you want.” Mark’s voice was a low rumble his microphone could barely pick up. He’d released his hand and pushed himself up enough to wiggle off-screen. “You want _me._ You want my… you want my _dick,_ Sean. Just admit it. You want the Markiplier D. You want more than just my fingers up your ass.” God, why was that so funny?! “You want more, you want it all, you want _me_ up there driving you absolutely nuts. Slamming you into the bed over and over ‘cause I bet you’d feel awesome, I bet it’d be fucking _great_ pounding into you _nnngh…_ ** _fuck…._** ” Mark’s breath hitched and he had to pause _._

Mark was _definitely_ touching himself now. Jack could tell from the movements of Mark’s arm disappearing off camera, the way his breath sped up and shook, the heat in his eyes. He moaned at the thought, sliding his hand up his thigh to cradle his balls, massaging them in his fingers and letting his hips thrust against his other hand without worrying about holding back.

“Oh god, Mark, you absolute _doof_!” Jack was laughing rather breathlessly as Mark talked about the ‘Markiplier D,’ but he couldn’t deny that Mark was right, especially not as Mark continued. His laughter petered out with a whimper, and Jack arched his back, pressing his shoulders into the bed as he sped up the pace of his hand inside him, fucking himself as hard as he could manage. It wasn’t _nearly_ enough. “Mark, _yes_ , yes I want you, I want your dick, I want you to fuck me so hard I forget my name, I love you, Mark, I…” Mark’s eyes were looking a little less heated and just a touch more panicked. Jack forced himself to look at the camera instead of the screen, his mouth hanging open with every breath punched out of him by his own hand. “I love you, Mark. I love that you’re doing this with me. You’re so amazing, so incredible. I love you.”

Mark’s breath hitched again with just the hint of a sob. His voice cracked when he spoke, “I love you too.” His forehead thunked against his monitor. He whimpered. “I need you so much right now….”

“Mark?” Jack’s voice shook, but Mark was clearly having problems on his end. He had sagged forward, his voice fraying from something that wasn’t arousal. Jack bit his lip and forced his hand off his balls, reaching up for the iPad. “Mark, Mark, love, look at me. Look at me, Mark. I’m right here.” He brushed his fingers against the edge of the camera, staring helplessly into the dark lens so it would look like he was looking directly at Mark. “It’s okay, Mark. It’s okay. No one else is watching. You’re not recording. I’m not recording. It’s just you and me. It’s okay. You don’t have to do _anything_ , Mark, not even for me. Remember? All I need from you is to know that you’re okay with what we’re doing. Doesn’t matter _what_ we’re doing. I just need you to be happy. Be comfortable. Be comfortable _with_ me.”

Mark’s lip wibbled, and his face was an absolute _mess_ of emotions, but he managed to lift his face from the screen to look directly into the camera for a moment, out of habit, before redirecting the line of his gaze to his monitor. He sucked in another forced breath. “I _want_ to do this for you. I want to do this _so bad,_ Sean. I kn-know I don’t _need_ to, I know. But I _want_ to, and it’s hard, and sometimes it feels like I really _can’t_ and I’m just so frustrated. I feel like I should be able to move past this and sometimes I _can,_ but times like now I just get so nervous and anxious and it’s _not fair._ It’s not fair, Sean, wh-what they’ve done. How they’ve fucked me up.”

Jack was still so hard, his dick absolutely _throbbing_ , but he’d endured this before. Mark’s distress was more important, no matter what his arousal was trying to scream in his mind. “I love you, Mark. I love you.”

His next inhale shuddered with a half-suppressed sob. “S-Sean, just… just keep going. Keep doing what you were, please Sean, I _need_ the distraction. I’d rather be thinking about you than _them._ I wanna see your face when you finish. I _need_ you to finish, for me. Please. Just… just keep talking to me. Tell me what you’d want from me. What I could be doing to you, if I was there. If I wasn’t scared. Tell me about the me I used to be. The me you fell in love with.”

Jack was shaking his head by the time Mark finished, rubbing his fingers over the camera. “No, Mark, _nope_ , not gonna do that, not gonna talk about past you. Because past you would _never_ have done this with me. Not past-you before _them_ , and not even past-you _after._ But I can tell you about future you. The you you’re _gonna_ be. The you we’re gonna work toward, in another month, when you fly out here and we stop living half the world away from each other.”

Jack had a countdown in his recording room again, but this time, it wasn’t until he found Mark’s broken body. It was until he could go to the airport and wrap his arms around his boyfriend again, drag him into a taxi and kiss him in the relative privacy of the back seat. Every day he crossed another box off, and Mark’s return was that much closer.

“You’re gonna be here, be _here_ , between my legs, buried balls-deep in my ass, and we’re _not_ gonna giggle like twelve-year-olds. We’re _not,_ because you’ll be leaning over me, boxing me in with your arms, kissing me like you need me to breathe. You’re so beautiful, Mark, and you’ve got me, you’re keeping _me_ safe, cause I’ve never...I’ve never done this before, and _I’m_ scared, but you’re being slow and gentle and _smoldering_ at me, and it’s too much, it’s too much and _not fucking enough…_ ” Jack was dragging his fingers in and out again, moving at the maddening pace he was describing to Mark. “And you know it, you _tease_ , but you wait until I’m begging you, Mark, _please_ , love, _please_ , and I’ve got my legs around yours and my fingers on your back, _there_ , and you pull out and _slam_ back into me oh god, _Mark_ , Mark, like that, just like that!” Jack’s eyes had gone wide when he mimicked the movements he was describing with his hand, his fingers finally finding his prostate and _oh holy fucking hell_ that was new! His abs were tense, curling up, as he sought to drive his fingers deeper, harder, to find that spot again and again and _fuck_ , masturbating without butt stuff was never going to be the same again.

Mark groaned. “Wanna kiss you so bad….Touch me, Sean, _oooh_ touch me, t-touch me please, touch me more _there,_ nngh… y-you feel so good…. So good, Sean, _ahh…._ ”

Jack’s narrative was falling apart, fraying with every thrust of his fingers into a babbled mess of Mark’s name and _God_ and _more_ and _please_. He managed to keep his eyes open, though, watching Mark’s face, watching his eyes fall closed and feeling a stab of pride join the rapidly unfurling pleasure boiling under his skin. Mark _hated_ closing his eyes, Jack knew. He’d always see _them_. But Mark’s words were as far from _them_ as possible, and Jack had to find some way to reward him. He licked his lips, panting heavily, and forced coherent sentences out even as he reached between his legs to finally wrap a hand around his own dick.

“Ungh, Mark, _yes_ , yes of course, of course, you’re over me, on top of me, and your nipples are too tempting. I’ve still got your back with one hand, still clutching tight over those letters, but I love your nipples too, love getting my hands on them, rolling one between my fingers, just like you like it…” Jack’s eyes squeezed shut and he tossed his head back as he worked himself faster toward the edge. “Mark, Mark, touch _me_ , please Mark, please let it be your hand on me, kiss me, Mark, I’m so close, so close…!”

Mark picked up where Jack had left off; voice husky and breathless with arousal. "Sean, I'm touching you. I'm kissing you so hard we can't even breathe right. I'm pounding into you so hard and fast now it's a complete mess but I'm hitting that spot, so it doesn't matter. I've got a hand on your dick and another one in your hair and it's just our mouths supporting me. Our mouths and your ass and I squeeze your dick- squeeze it, like you're clenching around me and it's all too much, too much- ahh- ah fuck, Sean!! Fuck!!"

Mark took over and Jack could concentrate on just fucking himself with his fingers, squeezing his dick like Mark was describing, lips moving as if he were kissing his boyfriend above him. He could almost, _almost_ feel Mark, feel the heat above him, the way their bodies would rub together, Mark’s fingers twisting over his dick and squeezing as Mark pounded into his ass. He was gone, completely lost, crying out Mark’s name as his back arched off the bed and he came hot and messy across his belly, his body tight around his fingers. Jack’s head was thrown back and he was breathing harshly, just trying to get himself under control again. He collapsed back down to the bed, easing his hand out before his wrist really started to cramp, when a yelp and clatter from the iPad caught his attention.

“Mark?” Jack rolled his head to the side again to squint at the screen, but Mark wasn’t there. “Mark!?” He pushed himself up, snatching up the iPad with his cleaner hand as if that would help him find his boyfriend in the empty room. “Mark, what the…?”

"My chair broke! Again!!"

Jack's worry changed to disbelief and then his own laughter as he slumped back against his pillows, setting the iPad back on the bed. "Oh god, Mark, you scared me! But if it's just your chair..."

Mark’s low chuckle was quick to morph into an actual laugh; the kind of laugh he used to give so freely. A laugh that was light and genuine. He reached up to grasp at the edge of his desk with his clean hand and managed to pull himself up. The upper half of his head--red floof and all--peeked into view of his webcam. "I can't believe I just climaxed so hard I broke the chair again. Jack!! The Hell kind of Devil's magic do you use on me?! Holy fuck. I got cum _everywhere_. Oh my _God_. That's gross. _I'm_ gross Jack this is all your fault."

Mark was laughing, and they'd both made a mess of themselves, and so Jack just closed his eyes and laughed, letting himself go boneless again. "It's not _Devil's_ magic, Mark. It's _Irish_ magic." Mark was laughing and complaining, so he probably wasn't hurt.

"Well come use your Irish magic to fix my chair!" Mark countered through his giggling. A majority of his weight was resting forward on his arm so he could watch his screen. Mark was still a bit flushed, skin slick with sweat and muscles relaxed after his orgasm. There was a beautiful light to his eyes that could only be rivaled by the smile on his face.

Jack angled a smile Mark’s way again, tired but satisfied. "I love you. Dork."  
  
"Love you too, dork." Mark sighed and ran clean fingers through his hair. There was still a hint of a chuckle on his breath. "I just came on camera..." He murmured it reverently; as if he could hardly believe it. "I just jerked it on camera... I..." Mark floofed his hair as his expression played an emotional tug-of-war between uncomfortable and satisfied.

“You did…” Jack touched his screen, still smiling. “You did, and you were _amazing_ , Mark. It was _so_ much better than just fantasizing alone.” He trailed his fingers across the image of Mark’s lips and sighed. “I wish I could kiss you. I wish we didn’t have to wait another month. Mm.”

An idea crossed his mind, and Jack chuckled to himself. “Wrap your arms around yourself, ‘kay? Cause I’d be hugging you right now, holding you tight. I love you, Mark. So much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	65. Night 326: Present for Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark sends Jack an early Christmas present.

“Maaaark!” Jack was practically bouncing in his seat as Mark answered the Skype call. He held up the plain brown box with the unfamiliar shipping label, shaking it slightly. “Mark, I got a package today that I didn't order! Is this what you meant by sending me a present?”

It had been about a week since Mark told Jack to expect a gift in the mail, and Jack was going crazy trying to figure out what Mark would be sending him. Mark had forbidden him from opening it until they were in a call, as he wanted to see Jack's reaction. Waiting for Mark to finish his work for the day had practically driven Jack up the walls.

“Can I open it now? Is it a puppy?” Jack bounced again, setting the box on the desk in front of him, not trying to hide his excitement in the least.

Mark chuckled as he leaned back in his own desk chair. His arms were crossed over his chest, expression neutral beyond a soft smile. “Nah, Jack, mine’s coming via stork.” He scoffed. “Yes, you can open it, you neon green doof. I hope the puppy question is just you being adorably silly because there’s obviously no holes in that box, and it would have to be the smallest puppy on the planet.”

“Puppies start small!” Jack protested. “I really do hope it's not a puppy. I've been shaking it around a lot…”

Mark had given him permission, so Jack tore into the box. It was pretty well tapped up, and it took some effort to break into. Past the cardboard and air pillows, though, was a…

“...a dildo?” Jack knew his face was already bright red as he pulled the sex toy out of the box. No /wonder/ the packaging was so discreet as to almost be suspicious! Jack wasn't sure if he should laugh or face-palm.

He did both.

“Oh my god, is this the one I was teasing you over?”

Ever since Mark had called Jack mid-masturbation, they had been trying to explore what they could do long-distance. They'd attempted to watch more porn together, which had led to a discussion about vibrators and then checking a sex shop online. From there, it had only been natural to start making comments on all the products available, and natural curiosity had sent them exploring…

Jack turned the package over in his hands, studying the wrapping. He'd dubbed this particular toy ‘the Mark’ after Mark had made a comment on the similarity of size and...well...Jack supposed he'd been asking for it.

Mark grinned a bit sheepishly at Jack, his own cheeks tinged a light pink. “Yeah, that’s the one. Basically my dick in a box, you’re fucking welcome. Y’know, seeing as I’m not there and all. It’s a half-decent substitute.”

Jack laughed again, working the silicone dick free from its package. “I love it. I'm going to name him Mini Mark, and I'm going to take him to bed with me every night, and make sure he's well-exercised and always happy.” He grinned unabashedly at Mark.

“Oh my god it looks even sillier when you handle it Jack, please.” It was Mark’s turn to bury his face in a hand as his cheeks darkened a few shades, but there was a definite grin plastered to his face. “Great, so even though I _didn’t_ get you a puppy, you’re gonna act like I did anyway. A dilduppy. Pupildo? Geez, okay, that is so wrong.”

“Thank you! You're always so thoughtful…”

Sliding his hand down his face so he could look at Jack again, Mark’s grin simmered down into a pleased smile. “Only the best for my boo. Just don’t get too attached and replace me with a hunk of molded silicone, okay?”

“Well now, I don't know. Mini Mark might be able to make me happier than you can…” Jack cradled the dildo against his cheek and sighed. “Ah, but it sucks at hugging back. Poo. Can it kiss?”

“Heeey….” Mark pouted at Jack a bit, but snorted at the question. “I mean, _you_ could probably kiss it, but like the hug it’s not gonna kiss you back or anything. That’d be weird. Also, you’re cradling a dick to your face, Jack. A dick. A dildo. I cannot believe- _ohmygod._ ”

Mark laughed when Jack touched the dildo, so Jack kept it up, lifting the dildo and giving it a peck on the tip of its molded head. He paused, drawing back and cocking his head to the side. “Huh. Wonder how realistic that was…” He glanced down briefly at his own lap, but even Jack knew he wasn't flexible enough to kiss his own dick.

Mark turned into a fit of blushing giggles as he pressed fingers to his face again; doubling over slightly. “I’d call you a fuckin’ goober but the fact you’re playing with a toy dick just makes it sound too wrong, jesus Jack, just ‘cause it’s a toy that doesn’t mean you can play around with it like a kid. I’m dying here.” Mark wheezed gently and brushed briefly at his eyes. “Well  I told you it was the closest one to my own that we saw on that website.”

“And you know how much I want to kiss your actual dick…” Jack winked as saucily as he could at Mark, waving the dildo at the camera. “I bet you'd be warmer. Taste better too.”

Was Jack seriously waving a dildo around his recording room? A dildo his boyfriend had sent him because it was close to his own dick? Jack wasn't sure if he'd ever stop blushing.

“Definitely. Still, I _did_ say it was a half-decent replacement during my absence…. You could always try it out if you want. Don’t you have a terrible gag reflex anyway? You could get some crucial dick sucking practice in.”

Whenever Mark got daring and dirty, Jack couldn't help but grin. He settled back in his chair, tapping the dildo against his lower lip thoughtfully. “Hmm, you've got a point, you know. Wouldn't want to choke on the actual deal. But would that make _you_ happy? Watching me try to suck this dick in your stead?”

Mark’s blush crawled up to his ears as he leaned back in his chair; gripping at the edge of his desk. “Well… I dunno. I like seeing you suck other places on my body. Maybe if it’s not actually attached to me, it’ll be easier for me to keep my head. In any case, you know I like watching you… and if the dick sucking itself freaks me out, we can stop. Right?”

“Just think of it like a porno. Dicks on a screen, starring your favorite Irish twink.”

Mark snorted. “I dunno if I should pity or respect you for calling yourself a twink so easily.”

“Hey, it's what I'm called on pornhub, right?” Jack lifted the dildo again, then frowned. “Er, actually...if I'm gonna put this in my mouth, I'm thinking I should wash it first, right? Five minutes?”

Mark shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Go scrub that thing with some soap and water. I can make myself comfortable in the meantime, if we’re really gonna do this….”

Jack smacked a kiss against his hand and blew it at Mark as he pushed his chair back. “We're gonna try this. Five minutes.”

Jack left the call up as he hustled to the bathroom. Scrubbing the dildo only made his blush explode across his face all over again: he was practically giving the thing a hand job in the sink. He dried it off, then caught his eyes in the mirror. Should he…?

Jack touched the tip of the dildo to his lips again and took a deep breath. Much as he'd love to share this with Mark, if something went wrong, if he started gagging or choking, Mark might end up triggered. He'd need to see how much he could safely take.

The toy was a lot bigger than just his fingers, girthy and solid as he pushed the head into his mouth. This, he could do. A little further, barely an inch past the flared head, and he felt his throat spasm as he gagged. He quickly pulled the toy out and wiped the back of his hands across his mouth. Ugh. Okay. Not very much. But at least he knew.

Jack glanced at the toy in his hands again. It wasn't Mark. It did nothing to truly satisfy his craving for Mark's dick. But it was better than his hand. It felt almost like it could be real, except again for the warmth (and the taste).

But...But maybe if he didn't have to _taste_ it…

Jack colored even darker at the sudden image of pushing the toy into his ass, stretching him open and giving himself something to really thrust against. He bit his lip to keep from moaning and clenched his hand tighter around the toy. Instead of going back to his recording room, Jack took a brief detour to his bedroom, taking the tube of lube from his bedside drawer and, after a moment of hesitation, an old condom from the back. Just in case. Better to be prepared of Mark was in the mood than not.

Jack also stopped for a towel before returning to his studio. He grinned at his camera, making a show of dumping all the objects on his desk. He dropped back in his chair and grinned at Mark, still holding the dildo.

Mark’s gaze snapped up to the screen and his eyes widened; breath hitching softly. “...get a few ideas while you were gone…?”

Jack shrugged, making himself comfortable. He'd never actually masturbated in this room before. Keep work and pleasure separate and all that. Mark was such a horrible influence.

“I figured it would be better to have everything here than to stop _again_ if things get heated,” Jack explained. “We don't have to use everything. I just wanted to be prepared.”

Mark flushed a little himself and shifted in his seat. “Yeah… I kind’ve did the same. Went and got some stuff while you were gone….” A teasing smile twitched onto his lips. “You put it in your mouth while you were in the bathroom, didn’t you? And then you thought about putting it in your butt.”

Even if Jack wanted to lie to Mark, the explosion of color across his face would have given him away. “Shut up! I didn't...Okay, I maybe...It might have slipped…” He fingered the toy and glanced away. “I mean, what else do you do with one of these…?”

Mark chuckled. “It might’ve slipped, right. Slipped straight into your mouth. Totally believing you here, man.” He grinned before giving a languid shrug of his shoulders. One of his hands had dropped below the desk. “Throw them at people? Film them hitting the floor in slow motion? I dunno, it’s a dick. Guess you better just pick a hole.” He burst into giggles halfway through his own words.

“Neeeeahhhh…” Jack ‘flew’ the dildo at the camera as if he could boop Mark in the face from five thousand miles away. Mark played along, falling back as if the dildo had hit him in the face; utterly dramatic. He had come so far. Jack was sure if he had done this eight months ago, Mark would have panicked.

“Speaking of, _this does not get out_.” Not that Jack thought Mark would announce Jack's ownership of a silicone dick, but he still had to make sure it was said. “Or else I'll say you bought it for me.”

Still chuckling, Mark grinned at Jack and supplied a little thumbs up. “Okay, okay, I won’t say a word about it. I promise. Not just for my own sake, but… y’know I don’t really like to embarrass people anymore….”

Jack grinned and nodded, settling back in his seat again. “Okay. So. Nondisclosure agreement dealt with...you bought this for me. What did _you_ imagine me doing with it?”

Mark’s flush returned with a vengeance at that and he cleared his throat. His free hand reached back to rub anxiously at his neck as he stared at Jack.”I… well… I kind’ve bought it as just a joke, at first…? But, I mean… once I saw you actually get your hands on it… and then kiss the damn thing, well…. My imagination _might’ve_ kicked into gear a little….” His gaze dropped and he gave a little cough. “Thought about you… taking it all into your mouth… acting like it was mine. You always say how much you want it and I’ve pictured it sometimes, but now that you’ve got an actual dick in your hands…. I think it’d be hot.”

“I do want it…” Jack shifted his hold on the dildo, grasping it near the base with one hand and letting his fingers play up the shaft with the other. He tried to hold it somewhere Mark would be able to see. “I've...thought of it a lot. What it would be like to see you, touch you, _taste_ you, without any cotton in the way…”

“Fuck…” Mark hissed, biting at his lip.

Jack closed his eyes for a moment, continuing to rub the dick like it were Mark's own he was toying with. “When we actually get to this point, I bet you'd be eager. You wouldn't ask for it, cause you're a bloody tease who wants me to cave first, but I know you'd be just as eager…”

Opening his eyes again, Jack looked into his camera with a smile. “You'd be right, though. I _would_ cave first. I wanna suck you off, Mark. _Please._ ”

Mark’s lips twitched into a grin again. “I’d let you know I wanted it… I’d suck at your skin until you got the message….” Mark groaned. “H-how could I say no when you ask me like that? Hope you've been… practicing with your gag reflex….”

“As if I could hold myself back after you let me…” Jack grinned at his camera, then leaned in to kiss the dildo again. He paused, glancing back at Mark on his screen.

“Actually...if your dick's out already, I'm wearing way too much…” Jack always had to be at least as naked as Mark, if not more so. It was one of the ways they kept Mark's anxiety at bay, by making Jack symbolically more vulnerable. Jack didn't mind. The way Mark looked at him always made up for any lingering unease over his own appearance.

Mark huffed out a shaky laugh at Jack's realization and ducked his head a little.

Jack set the dildo down and leaned back to take his shirt off. He didn't have his headphones plugged in, so he didn't have to worry about getting tangled up in the cord. Mark’s eyes roved over his screen, and Mark sunk teeth into the meat of his free hand.

“Better?” Jack asked. “More?” It wasn't like Mark could see him waist down anyway.

Mark gave a little nod, hesitated, then nodded again. He let out a puff of breath and wiggled in his seat. “I want… I know my dick’s already out, but I'm still wearing a shirt…” He glanced down at said garment as if to emphasize his dilemma. “...and I feel kinda silly. Want me to return the favor?”

Jack chuckled, picking up the dick again and letting his fingers rub over the shaft. “We really were too fucking eager, but it's been _ages_ since I had my hands on you. Yes, god, _absolutely_. I love to see you shirtless.” He continued to toy with the dildo as he watched Mark pull his hand out from beneath the desk.

Mark gripped the hem of his shirt and slowly pulled the shirt up over his head with a slight flourish that left his glasses skewed but his hair delightfully ruffled, Mark combed fingers through the black fluff and tossed the clothing aside. He straightened up and leaned back, showing off his muscled arms and torso, adjusting his glasses and fixing Jack with a crooked, dashing smile. “How's this for you?”

“Oh, that's nice…” Jack took a minute to just admire Mark's toned, scarred body. His fingers ached to climb up those lines, mapping out familiar flesh, toying with his nipples, kissing a collarbone...but no. No, Jack had a better treasure in his hands (sort of).

“God, Mark, you are so fucking sexy like this, naked and hard and wanting me...I want you too. Can you feel it? Feel me?” Jack closed his hand more firmly around the dildo, fisting it harder. “I love you…” He dipped his head down again, running his tongue around the sculpted head.

“Ohgod, fuck, h-hang on…” Mark shifted around and released a low groan. “Okay… o-okay, yeah… I can feel you.. oh.. I can feel you…Love you… love you so fucking much… love how it feels when you touch me, when you t-taste me.. nngh….”

Jack grinned and glanced briefly up at the camera, taking in Mark’s relaxed pose, before he really got to work, running his tongue along the length of the toy over and over again, long licks from root to tip, a series of short playful licks, wrapping his tongue around the shaft as much as he could. He already knew he wouldn't be able to take much into his mouth, so he had to indulge in a different way, mouthing up the side before finally, _finally_ pressing his lips around the head.

It was fun, in a way, but it was more fun because Mark was actually watching Jack than it was because of what he was actually _doing_. The taste was entirely wrong. The dildo was warming up beneath his mouth and hand, but it still tasted a bit of plastic and a bit of soap and nothing at all like Mark's delicious skin that Jack could never get enough of. He tongued the edge around the head and tried not to let his disappointment show. It was practice. Good practice. Even if he couldn't pretend it was actually Mark, he could still figure out how to move his mouth and tongue.

“So good, Sean, mm… fuck, your tongue’s too fucking flexible, even like this. You kissing me weak in the knees is nothing compared to this. Your mouth is… hah… it's so warm…. So good to me, Sean, so fucking hot when you're sucking on me….”

Jack looked up when Mark started talking, surprise in his blue eyes. Dirty talk was rare from Mark, because it almost always made him feel as evil as the men who had hurt him. Jack loved it, though, loved hearing those words pouring out in Mark's deep, honeyed sex voice.

Mark stared Jack down with dark, lust-filled brown eyes. “...you can touch yourself, if you can… one hand is fine… I've got your mouth, anyway, please touch yourself for me Sean….”

Jack moaned around his mouthful of silicone, pulling one hand away from stroking the dildo to reach down out of Mark's sight. His own dick wasn't fully hard, but it wasn't uninterested either. Mark's words had especially sparked some reaction. Jack moaned again as he slid his hand into his pants, gripping himself and stroking himself harder.

“That's it… there you go, Sean… mm.. I love you… I love you so fucking much… want you to feel good. Want you to enjoy this too, enjoy me- me, my dick, that's what you're sucking on and it feels amazing, Sean….” Mark moaned.

Mark was enjoying the show, and that was all that mattered. The sounds he was making filled Jack's room, and he could almost pretend he really did have Mark's dick in his mouth...wearing a really thick condom, maybe?

Mark moaned and arched and rocked into his fist, looking deliciously sexy in front of his camera. “Wanna touch you, Sean. Want you to touch me.. nngh… god, Sean, tell me where to touch you… tell me what you want….”

Jack pulled the dildo out to look up at the camera fully, licking his lips at how tingly they felt without the silicone pressing against them. “I can't talk if my mouth is full of your plastic dick, goober,” he teased. “But God, look at you, I wanna touch you so bad…” Mark's hand was playing with his nipples, his other hand clearly busy out of view. He was flushed and panting already, and Jack ached to feel Mark's body against his for real.

Mark snorted; peeking at Jack from under his lashes. “Well I was expecting you to take my dick out of your mouth, _goober_ ,” he teased right back. He huffed a hot breath, whining softly as he pinched at a nipple again.

Mark’s head lolled back against the headrest of his chair. His gaze was unfocused and lidded, with his lips parted so he could maintain his steady breaths. He arched gently into empty air and cried out softly. “ _God,_ I want you so bad. Want you to touch me; tease me- fuck, Sean. You don't even need to suck me off, but you did, and it felt so good… felt so good to have your mouth on me, haahh… wanna bite… wish I could sink my teeth into you….” Mark bit at his lip instead. “...do you want me inside of you, Sean?”

Jack looked sharply at his monitor, at Mark's face, then at the camera. Words failed him in the wake of Mark's question, his own dick throbbing in his hand. _Fuck._ When had Jack turned into such a bottom?

Sometime between Mark's first kiss and getting pinned to the wall…

Jack whined in that back of his throat, squeezing his dick and the silicone one. That thought from the bathroom filled his mind again, of himself pushing the dildo into his own ass, fucking himself like he craved Mark to do. “I…”

Jack cleared his throat and tried again, unconsciously fisting the toy again. “You know I want you, Mark. I always want you. Do you...do you want to fuck me? Tonight? Now?”

Mark let out a breathy little sigh; eyelashes fluttering. “Yes… yes, Sean, if you want to take me, you can. I will. I love you, Sean. Please let me show you how much. Let me love you; let me _make_ love to you. Whatever you want. I want to make you feel good.”

Jack looked down at the dildo again, then further down at his lap. “Heh...have to get my pants off for that. You take over for a minute. Keep looking gorgeous. I'd offer to give you a show, but…”

But they both knew this wasn't really going to happen anytime soon. Mark was barely okay with touching Jack's naked body when it was hidden from view. Jack doubted he'd be up for seeing everything now.

...unless he was? Jack hesitated with his hands on his pants, glancing thoughtfully at the camera. “ _Do_ you want a show? I mean, technically, I'm just on a screen for you. Like the porn. Right?”

Mark’s breath hitched, and his movements paused so he could stare back at Jack. His eyes were still hazy with lust and arousal, but there was just a hint of clarity there. Drawing a deep, shaky breath, Mark let his hand drop and hugged an arm about his middle.

“I…” Mark took a deep breath. “...I want to see. I wanna see you- _all_ of you. While it’s absolutely impossible for you to….” Mark trailed off, his lips trembling, and he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t… I know you wouldn’t do anything it’s just my brain is stupid and even though I trust you it doesn’t fucking care, and you don’t deserve that you don’t…” Mark stopped again. He tucked his face into his shoulder instead with a shuddering inhale.

“Hey, hey. Here, Mark.” Jack leaned forward, tearing his eyes away from the sight of Mark's agitation to touch his fingers against his camera lens, looking straight into its dark eye. Better for it to look to Mark like Jack's eyes were on him than for Jack to _actually_ be watching Mark and instead looking off to the side. “It's okay, Mark. It's okay. We can do this as slow as you need. Are you hugging yourself for me? Because you know I'd be hugging you now if I could. My hand's on your scar, Mark, okay? You're mine. I'm yours. You're safe. I have you. You're safe.”

Mark sniffled, though he hadn’t started crying yet, and forced his face away from his shoulder to look back at his screen. “I-I’m sorry, you were fine, w-we were doing fine I just got into my own head again and I… a-and I lost it….” Mark’s voice trembled as his lips and jaw continued to quiver with his emotions. “I wish you could touch me. I want you to hug me so bad, Sean, I miss you. I miss you so much…” Mark sniffled again and hugged himself a little tighter. “I want to be safe with you,” he whispered,” I want to believe I can be safe with you more than anything.”

“I love you,” Jack murmured. “I love you, and in a couple weeks, you'll be back here in Ireland for six months, and then I will be in L.A. for six months and we're not going to have to do this apart ever again, okay? It's just a couple more weeks before I can hug you tight. We can do this, Mark.”

Mark stared at Jack, his face crumpled with emotion, and took another shuddering inhale. He squeezed at his midsection a bit tighter, just for a few moments longer, then let go. He scrubbed at his face a little and managed a nod or two; eyes closed. “Okay.” Another deep breath, slightly steadier than the last. “O-okay. A few weeks. I-I can do a few weeks. We can do it. I love you.” His eyes opened to stare into his screen and his mouth cracked into the weakest of smiles. “I’m sorry. I’m a big, dumb doofy-doo. I ruined the mood we had going.”

“And after all that work I did making out with Mini Mark too!” Jack smiled back, relieved that Mark was sounding calmer. He risked a glance at his computer screen to confirm it. Good. “It's okay. If we need to stop here, we can.” It wouldn't be the first time a promising encounter had slammed into the brick wall of Mark's anxieties. Jack was too familiar with the particular type of blue balls that accompanied cradling your boyfriend against your chest and rubbing his back as he cried softly in your arms. Absolute worst case scenario would just have Jack ducking into the bathroom to take care of things.

Mark snorted softly. “I want to try. I want to keep going, Sean. I wanna see… wanna see _you._ All of you. I meant it when I said that.”

Jack looked at Mark, took in the determination in his face, and decided not to doubt or second-guess him. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, but I'm gonna have to change camera positions. Otherwise I'm gonna be contorted into an awkward position, and that won't be fun. So...here.” He tugged his pants into place so he wasn't accidentally flashing Mark, then stood and pushed his chair back a bit. “You direct me so you'll be able to see as much of me as you want when I'm sitting in the chair again, okay?” Jack moved around his desk to free his camera and tripod, bringing it forward and adjusting it for a wider viewing angle.

Mark drew one more breath. “Okay… Okay… so… you’re wearing underwear, right? You can… take off your pants, on camera. You can face me- I mean, I’d love to see your ass, but you don’t have to.. to hide. I… I’d like to see your face, if it’s possible, but if it’s only from like the shoulders down… I might be okay with that.”

“Okay, so...can you see the chair?” Jack leaned over to check his camera positioning and adjusted so it was better centered. “Okay...Okay, I think that's good.” It shouldn't cut his head off, but it should still give Mark a good view of everything.

Right now, ‘everything’ was flushed pretty red at the thought of stripping on camera for Mark to watch. _Mark likes how I look,_ Jack reminded himself as he moved back into frame. Still...Jack had never actually done this before. Stripped. For a camera.

Jack took a deep breath and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers. His erection had flagged as well when he comforted Mark, but he suspected that would soon be fixed. “Remember, you can stop this at any time…”

Mark leaned back in his chair, as if he were leaning himself further away from Jack in person. Eyes slightly wide, some of the color drained away from his face and he quickly stammered, “I changed my mind! Can’t do the front- turn around, please, just… take them off, facing away from me….”

“Why Mark, if you wanted to see my fluffy butt, you should have just said so!” Jack tried to disarm Mark's panic with a bit of humor, remembering how fascinated Mark had been with squeezing his ass in the hotel bathtub. He turned around obediently, purposely sticking out his butt and giving it a wiggle for Mark.

Mark’s next breath dissolved into a wheezing giggle at the callback. “Oh c’mon, you’re really never gonna let me live that down, are you?? Oh, if only I had a wet towel and less distance between us… your fluffbutt would be _snapped,_ Sean.”

“Whose butt, _mine_ …?” Jack twisted around to look over his shoulder at the camera, pouting his lips out and touching one finger to them in an exaggerated pinup pose. He tugged at his boxers too, pulling them down on one side to further complete the look. The humor was helping keep him relaxed as well. This was just their usual dicking around. It wasn't a strip tease or anything like that.

“No. The dildo’s.” Mark deadpanned in the wake of Jack’s silliness. He shook his head at the exaggerated pose, but there was still a smile on his face. _“Nerd_...keep going?”

“If I'm a nerd, but you like it, what does that make you?” Jack wondered aloud.

“A nerd lover, I guess. Makes sense. Doesn’t make you any less of one, though.” Mark stuck his tongue out a bit.

Jack had to drop his other hand to the other side of his pants, pulling that side down too. Mark would be getting a nice eyeful of his ass now. Jack took another breath and let the boxers drop to the floor. “Whoops…”

Mark exhaled. “If that was an accident then I’m Irish. And we both know you’re the only lucky leprechaun here, you fuckin’ silly ass tease. Literally.”

Jack wiggled again for Mark, racing one hand back to stroke over the scarred letters tattooed across the small of his back before skimming it down across his ass. He grinned over his shoulder at Mark again, deciding he'd just ignore the fact that he was completely naked. In his recording room. With Mark watching. “You _like_ my ass tease, ya dork. Why else would you have asked for it?”

“Touche. So sue me if I like my boyfriend’s sexy booty. It’s cute. Especially when you wiggle; it jiggles a little bit. Wish I could squish it.” Mark was grinning and giggling.

“Squish…” Jack gave his ass a squeeze for Mark, resisting the urge to make a honking noise as he grabbed his own butt. Maybe that could come later.

“Much as I enjoy watching you play around with your own butt… I think I’m ready. Slow? And.. and keep talking to me.”

Mark wanted more. Jack knew exactly what it felt like to want more, and he knew how it felt to have to reign in disappointment to remain supportive. Mark would not have to know that. Jack twisted around slowly, revealing his half-chub to his camera, and, by extension, Mark's eyes.

Mark’s eyes zeroed in on Jack’s dick in a blink. His next breath got caught up in his throat and his eyes widened slightly.

“Behold, the wonder and majesty of the naked Irishman! See that he does not, in fact, have a potato in his pocket and _is_ just happy to see you!”

The breath sputtered out of Mark in a spittle-riddled wheeze and he choked softly; gawking at Jack. He glanced back to Jack’s half-hard dick and blinked. “...it’s smaller.”

Jack threw his hands up in mock exasperation. “Because we did have a bit of a boner-kill moment in the middle and I've been more focused on making my bae's wiener happy than my own! It _will_ grow…”

He stuck out his tongue at Mark to show he wasn't truly offended, though he made no move to touch himself. Mark needed to be okay with everything right now, and he was looking a little flustered.

Mark blinked again and leaned back some. Slowly placing his clean hand on the edge of his desk, Mark focused his gaze lower again and gently squeezed at the wood.

Briefly, he let his gaze drop to his own lap before returning to Jack’s. “...you’re smaller than them.” His voice was quiet, and small in a way it hadn’t been for a long time. It was akin to Mark’s hospital voice, but without the scratchy hoarseness caused by his pneumonia.

Jack's humor immediately dissolved into concern, and he stepped closer to the camera. “Mark…”

Mark’s fingers tightened on the desk; expression unreadable. “...it looks different. _You_ look different. It’s…” Mark’s breath hitched. “It’s just a dick. It’s just _your_ dick and it’s not… you’re not gonna hurt me with it.”

There wasn't much he could do from five thousand miles away. Jack pitched his voice low and as soothing as he could. “Mark, you're right. It's just _my_ dick, and it's safe. It's different. It's not going to hurt you. It's _never_ going to hurt you. I will never do anything to you with my dick that you do not explicitly want. I promise. It's safe. _You're_ safe. Because I love you.”

“I… I love you too….” Mark took a deeper breath, still focused on his screen. “Can you… touch it? St-step back a little, maybe. I just… feel good. Let yourself feel good and I… it’ll help, me. It will. I’m happy when you feel good….”

Jack stepped back and reached down to take himself in hand. It was hard to think about his own pleasure when Mark was so clearly in distress, but Mark was asking for this. He took a deep breath and started toying with his dick like he had done with the dildo, just lightly playing his fingers along his shaft.

“Mark…” Jack sighed Mark's name, casting his mind around for a good memory of Mark being close to his dick. “Remember that bath we took together? With all the bubbles? Remember how that felt, just you and me in the tub together. We were touching each other...you were doing this...remember how good that was?”

“...I remember…. I remember how good it felt… how good _you_ felt, under me…. What it was like to touch you there…. It was safe. _You’re_ safe. I… Sean. Close your eyes? Please? Don’t stop touching yourself… if that’s okay.”

Jack closed his eyes. “Just tell me if you're getting uncomfortable, because I can't see it.” Jack didn't have a problem closing his eyes or continuing to stroke himself for Mark. It was growing less weird the more he stood in front of the camera, completely naked with his dick in his hand.

“I will. I promise.” Mark was quiet for a little while, before he moaned softly and began to speak again. “...we’re together, Sean. We’re on our bed, in our little cabin, and it’s just the two of us…. We’re naked and your lips are still all puffy after putting your mouth on me… on my dick. You just look so cute… and you want me so much…. My hand’s on you. Can you feel it, Sean? Sliding up and down your dick, squeezing at it, taking my sweet time so I can hear your sounds and watch you wiggle because of how much you want more… want _me._ I’m touching you _there,_ I’m stroking your dick… I’m stroking it, because I want to, wanna hear you say my name… mmn… Sean….” Mark released a fluttery little sigh. “Keep touching me… god, Sean, please keep touching me, feels so good….”

“Mark…” Jack sighed Mark's name again, but it was definitely in pleasure this time. It was easier to slide his hand over his dick with Mark narrating a scene instead of being panicky. He could feel himself throb and swell beneath the fantasy of Mark's fingers on him instead of his own, Mark lying beside him, both of them safe and warm in their bed.

“Of course I'm still touching you, Mark, of course I am. I can't get enough of you. I might not be sucking your dick anymore, but I'm still stroking it, can't keep my hands off of you. I'm playing with your nipples too, still can't decide which one is my favorite, so I have to tweak both of them...god, Mark, I love the little sounds you make, the way your eyes get all soft and deep…”

“Seeeaaan….” Mark moaned; huffing a little breath. “ _Sean… Sean.._ c-could get inside you, right now…. Could give you what you wanted.. mmn… o-or we could cum like this, just us, just our hands.. ahh… Sean….”

Jack was panting now, letting himself get lost in the fantasy. He wasn't nearly as close to the edge as Mark sounded to be, but that was okay. Jack liked it when Mark came first. Less chance of triggering him.

“Mark, mm, I'm not, not stretched or anything, _can't_ take you right now...but that's okay, it's okay Mark, already sucked your dick today. One step at a time, we can just cum like this…” Jack cracked his eyes open so he could look at Mark on the screen, flushed and sweaty and so fucking beautiful. Mark was arching into his own hands, his nipples hard beneath his fingers. Jack wished he could get his mouth on them and really make Mark whimper and wail. “Love you, Mark, love you so much…”

“Oh thank god, thank god, good, _good-_ Sean.. Sean….” Mark keened softly. “L-love you, love you, oh fuck, gonna.. ‘m gonna… Sean- Sean- _Sean..!_ ”

“Cum for me, Mark…” Jack tried to make it a plea more than a command. They were doing better about Mark feeling the need to have Jack give him permission, but it still held keep his anxiety low if Jack asked for it. “Cum for me, wanna see you, _feel_ you, Mark, wanna feel you lose it, in my hands, against my body, Mark, _please_ …”

There was no way Jack _wasn't_ going to watch Mark lose himself, watching his pleasure play across his expressive face as he touched himself, worked himself to his climax. “ _Please…_ ” Jack repeated, palming the head of his own dick, feeling the precum gathering there, and he cracked his eyes open.

Mark gave a soft whine, one hand still working in his lap, the other teasing a nipple, and then he was shooting his release across his stomach and his ribs as he keened Jack's real name; loud and unabashed. Body arching up off his chair for several moments, he was soon folding back into it as a semi-sentient man puddle. He moaned softly, while tears came trickling down his cheeks and he sniffled, lips trembling.

Jack moaned Mark's name as he watched Mark cum, just able to see some of his release on his chest above the camera line. There was a blissed-out expression in his face even as Mark sniffled. It was hard to tell if he was genuinely upset or just overwhelmed, but Jack decided to gamble on the latter and keep stroking himself.

“Mark, Mark, look at you, you're so beautiful, I love you, Mark, I love you so much…”

Eventually grunting softly, even as the tears continued slipping down his cheeks, Mark wiggled to sit up a bit more but kept his eyes closed. “Sean… I love you, Sean, I love you so much… so good for me, Sean. So good _to_ me. I love you. I'm going to keep touching you, Sean. I'm gonna help you cum, I'm gonna make you feel good too, I promise…. Feel me kissing at your skin, across your shoulders. I'm still squeezing and stroking while I tease at your nipples, ‘cause I know you love it as much as I do. I'm right here. I'm right here, Sean, and I've got you. Gonna make you feel so good…..”

Jack let his eyes slip closed again, reaching up to toy with his nipples as Mark spoke. Mark's voice was always its most amazing right after an orgasm, and it was something Jack would never have to share. For all the world knew about how Mark _looked_ post-orgasm, they never heard it.

“Mark, fuck, I love you…” Jack could easily imagine Mark nuzzling into his neck and shoulder, fingers toying with a nipple while he worked Jack's erection in his other hand, thick, strong fingers pulling at his shaft, dipping down to massage his balls…

Jack groaned, his hand working faster. There, _there_ , just like that, almost, _almost…_

There was no desk to hide behind as Jack came, rocking onto his toes, his dick jerking in his grasp. Jack sighed Mark's name, his head tipped back, almost forgetting that he was standing in the middle of his recording room.

“Love you too, Sean, love you… there you go….” Mark snuffled again and swiped his nose across his arm. “Jack, d-don't fall over- maybe you should s-sit down.”

“Heh...g-good idea…” Jack cracked his eyes open, managing to stumble back and collapse in his chair. He uncurled his fingers one at a time from his dick and gave the camera a dopey grin and giggle. “That's...actually the first time I've done that in this room…you okay? You good?”

Mark returned Jack's smile easily, even if he was still crying. “Wish I could say the same, but I have definitely jerked off in here before….” he admitted sheepishly.

“That's what the big screen tv is for,” Jack teased. He leaned back in his chair, sighing again.

Mark snagged some tissues to try and clean himself up. “I-I'm… I'm good. Yeah. ‘M okay…. J-just.. emotional, I guess….” He wheezed out a pitiful sort of laugh and gave up on his glasses; setting them on his desk. “I can't seem to stop crying….”

“It's okay, Mark. I knew you were a bubble-blowing baby when I fell for you. Wish I had some of your tissues, though. My towel's aaaaaall the way over there.” Jack wiggled his fingers at his desk, just out of reach. “...wish I had you…”

Mark’s lips started to tremble again. He pressed his fingertips to them but the digits did nothing to hide his quivering smile. “Wish I had you too. But it’s like you said, right? Just a few more weeks? We can do it. We can… even if it’s gonna be hard.” He sniffed. “C’mon, Sean. Just roll your chair forward. You can do it. I believe!” He picked his voice up a bit, even if it wobbled..

“I believe in Steve…!” Jack pushed off with his feet, wheeling his chair closer to his desk and trying not to roll through the mess on the floor. Urgh. He was definitely going to have to clean that up. He did make it back to the desk and grabbed his towel to wipe his fingers off. The dildo stood there, still as proudly erect as ever. Jack pushed it with one finger to knock it down.

Mark burst into a fit of giggles, letting his hand fall away from his mouth. He was grinning fully now as he dabbed at his eyes and face one more time. Finally, the tears were subsiding.

“Seriously though...thanks, I think, for Mini Mark?” Jack wasn't really sure what the proper etiquette was when your boyfriend sends you a sex toy. “I probably will pretend he's you in these next couple of weeks…”

Mark quickly replaced his glasses in an effort to hide it. “You’re… uh, you’re welcome. Like I said, it really was just a joke to begin with, but… I mean, if it actually helps… then I’m glad. Just hope you won’t like it better than me by the time we’re back together.”

“If nothing else, I'll be able to figure out how to get around my gag reflex,” Jack said.

Mark sighed. “Good luck with that one.”

“But don't worry. Mini Mark doesn't taste nearly as good as you. Doesn't feel as good either. He might just make me want you _more_.”

Mark leaned back in his chair. He combed fingers through his mussed hair instead and smiled affectionately at his boyfriend on the other side of the world. “I’d hope I tasted better than _silicone,_ so thanks for the confirmation. Maybe I should send you some stuff more often, if it’s just gonna hook you harder on me…”

“I'm only basing it off of how your skin tastes. You're gonna have to let me get my mouth on your dick for real to know for sure…” Jack grinned and winked at his camera, as if Mark wasn't incredibly aware of how much Jack craved him. Jack had realized fairly early on that embracing his desire for Mark whole-heartedly actually seemed to help Mark be more comfortable with the whole sex thing, so he played it up, no matter how much he still blushed at the thought of _actually_ getting fucked by Mark.

Mark sputtered softly into his fingers as he pressed them over the lower half of his face; cradling his chin in his palm. He leaned forward to shoot Jack a dubious look but just couldn’t stop grinning. “We’ll see how things go in a few weeks. Who knows? Maybe the prolonged separation’s gonna have me banging down your door; just ripping my pants off so you can compare the two and find out Markiplier is infinitely better.”

“If I don't drag you into the backseat of the cab and jump you first, you mean?” Jack asked. “Though, we should be responsible parents and make sure Chica is settled before we go at it like rabbits in heat…”

“ _Jack,_ we can’t just start scarring all the cabbies in Ireland. Who else is gonna drive us around?” Mark admonished Jack, playing along as his grin simmered down into a content smile. “Of course. Chica-bica _always_ comes first. She’s a good doggo, though. She handled the last two flights okay. I don’t think she’ll have much trouble with this one. Pretty soon, we’ll be calling her Air Bud!”

Jack groaned at Mark's bad joke, shaking his head. “Only you, Mark. Only you. Good thing I love ya…”

“We both know you wouldn’t want me any other way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read [Kintsugi: The Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9036209/chapters/20575517) as well, so you don't miss any part of this story!


	66. Evening 333: Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home for good.

Jack prepped an extra day's worth of videos so he could take a cab to Dublin to meet Mark. This was the first flight Mark was taking on his own, and Jack knew he’d be tense and jumpy. He tugged his hat over his green hair and shifted from foot to foot anxiously at the international arrivals terminal. Every so often, he checked the flight board. Mark’s flight hadn’t been delayed. He was in the airport. He was… _there_.

There was no running-into-each-other’s-arms scene, no slow motion show of affection. There couldn’t be. They were in public, and the official story they’d given their communities was that they both missed the easy collaboration of living with another YouTuber who did not work for them. And Mark missed his garden, and Jack missed the L.A. sun, and so they were going to share a house (two houses) like Dan and Phil, but with separate bedrooms, you dirty-minded shippers!

Jack didn’t think anyone actually bought it, but it would have to do until they were ready to come out.

So for now, there was no running into Mark’s arms. Mark did not pull Jack into a kiss. Their eyes met and the tension melted out of Mark’s face. He made a beeline for Jack. Jack gripped his hands and squeezed, not going for a hug even though it would have been socially acceptable, because he knew if he hugged Mark now, if he got his arms around Mark’s body and filled his lungs with Mark’s scent, he would not be letting go. “I’ve got a cab waiting,” he said instead. “Let’s get Chica checked out, so we can go home.”

The cab driver didn’t seem to know who they were, but they still didn’t take any chances. Jack and Mark held hands behind Mark’s carry-on, thrown casually on the seat between them like a chaperone. Their fingers interlaced, and they kept watching each other with stupid smiles on their faces, but they managed not to give away anything. Barely.

Back in Athlone, Jack paid the driver and tipped her handsomely. He’d booked her for the entire day and wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to bad-mouth them to her colleagues. They would need plenty of cabs in the future. Mark had already gone inside to drop his bags and get Chica settled. The little cottage glowed from its windows. Jack looked up and smiled. Mark was inside. For the first time in months, it felt like _home_.

As the cab drove off, Jack trotted up the slushy walk to the front door. He stepped inside and locked the door behind him, then pulled his boots off. Wiggling his toes in bad Christmas socks that clashed with his YouTube Christmas jumper, he bounced a couple times and then went in search of his boyfriend. “Mark?” _Now_ he could hug Mark like he wanted, press him close, slip a hand beneath his shirt, join their mouths together and breathe the same air like they were one person.

Mark rushed to meet him. “Jack!” Mark scooped Jack off his feet, and Jack was laughing along with his boyfriend, kicking half-heartedly as Mark rocked them, kissing at Jack’s forehead and smothering his face with more breathless kisses as he kept Jack’s feet lingering off the ground. “Jack, Jack, _Jack_ I’m home, we’re home and it’s just like I remember Jack I love you. I love you _so much_ I feel like I just ate a pound of sugar or something I’m just so _happy_ and _excited_ andandand- _kiss me, dammit!!_ ”

“Mark, Mark, I'm trying, I'm trying, _stop moving, damn it_!” His mouth was glancing off Mark's face as Mark writhed and squirmed in his excitement, mirroring Chica's excited dancing at their feet. “Hold _still_!”

Jack was still laughing as he finally lifted his hands to force Mark's head still long enough to bring their mouths together properly. As soon as he was connected, he let his arms wrap around Mark's shoulders again and stopped his struggles. It was so much better to just melt in his boyfriend's arms, moaning softly and letting Mark support him. Mark was _home_. They were _both_ home.

Mark settled down as they kissed. Chica, still wound up by the long hours spent stationary and Mark’s excitement, gave a happy little yip. She planted her forepaws on their hips to watch the display with heavy pants and a wagging tail. Mark grinned into the kiss but didn’t break it. He merely let one hand drop to Jack’s ass, then the other.

Mark hefted Jack higher, squeezing at his ass, and Jack groaned, lifting his legs himself to lock them around Mark's waist (and trying not to kick Chica in the process). He kneaded his fingers into Mark's shoulders, coaxing Mark's mouth open to kiss him deeply. He still remembered just what to do to make Mark weak at the knees. It was like muscle memory as he twisted his tongue and moved their lips together. He'd _missed_ this.

Mark moaned, wet and heavy, into the kiss as his grip on Jack’s ass tightened and he stumbled backwards. His shoulders hit the nearby wall with a quiet “thunk” and they were stable again, still kissing. Chica, acting innocent as ever, sat where they’d been standing mere moments before with a curiously tilted head.

Jack had to break away from the torture he was inflicting upon Mark's mouth to giggle helplessly. His fingers were plucking at Mark's coat, and there were really too many layers between them. “Ch-Chica, did you have to go out, honey? Your daddy is a bit preoccupied…”

“Daddy is _very_ preoccupied.” Mark mumbled huskily around the heavy breaths he was still taking.

There had been several ways that this reunion could have gone. Slow and passionate make-out in front of the fireplace was already out the window. A frenzied ripping off of clothes and sex against the wall was a possibility. Given the fact that they had a dog who had suffered a long flight and a long drive all in one day, Jack suspected option three--hard and fast but at least in bed--was the most likely. Jack pressed a soft kiss to Mark's chin and unhooked his legs.

“Put me down,” he said. “I'll let Chica out, and you can take off some of this wet stuff and wait for me in the bedroom?” Jack fingered Mark's scarf and grinned. “Not that you don't look adorable prepping for an Irish winter, but it's been a long time since I've gotten to see your skin…”

There was a pout playing at Mark’s lips as he set Jack down. “Okay. Fine. Only ‘cause I still gotta get all this off anyway and I’d rather not have Chica interrupting us… later. Watch out for the puddles. I think I might’ve tracked some water around….” He smiled sheepishly and gave Jack’s healed nose a kiss.

Forcing his arms to unwind from Jack’s waist, Mark kicked off his own boots. “Also, don’t even _talk to me_ about ‘adorable’, you little Christmas leprechaun. I hope you realize I packed _all_ my awful Christmas sweaters. I don’t care if it’s after the fact. I’m wearing them.” Mark gave Chica’s head an affectionate scrubbing and headed for the bedroom.

Jack let Chica out, hopping from foot to foot impatiently. Chica seemed just as eager to do her business quickly, though she also wanted to explore the familiar garden. Jack managed to call her back inside and led her back to her crate, which he'd dug out of storage and set up yesterday.

“Hey baby girl, hey, sorry I'm not being all cuddly like usual, but I need to cuddle your daddy first.” Jack got on his knees to rub her down, scratching her ears and ruffling up the fur along her sides. “You get some sleep, and I'll play with you tomorrow. That's an Uncle Jack promise.”

With one last kiss to her golden forehead, Jack locked the crate and got to his feet again. He flipped off lights on the way to the bedroom, gathering up Mark's discarded clothes, his eyes growing wider with every article of clothing he picked up. Had Mark _stripped_?

By the time he reached the bedroom, Jack's arms were full of Mark's entire outfit. He could see the lump in his bed, huddled beneath the duvet, and grinned. “Are you even wearing _anything_ under there?” he asked, dumping Mark's clothes unceremoniously in a pile on the floor and heading for the bed. He was tugging off his jumper as he crossed the room, eager to get back into his boyfriend's arms.

“Why don’t you wiggle that skinny Irish butt under here and find out?” Mark shot Jack a wink. There were fingers resting on the frames of his glasses, waiting to slip them off. He let out a little breath of appreciation. “God, I missed you. I wish I could’ve stretched out all sexy and inviting for you but damn I forgot how much _colder_ it gets here. Hope your eyes work just as good _under_ the comforter.”

“Aww, sorry, I had the heat low today cause I was gonna be out for most of it. Should've thought ahead more…” Jack dropped his jumper and pulled off his undershirt as well, his green hair a fluffy mess. “Tell me, Mark...how much do you want _me_ to wear?”

“Well, it’s okay. We’re gonna be warming each other up in a minute…,” Mark drawled while his eyes happily roved over Jack’s newly exposed torso.

As he asked the question, Jack dropped his hand to his fly, toying with the button. He was already showing a bit of a chub off for Mark, and he ran his fingers down the side of the bulge for his boyfriend's appreciative eyes.

Mark bit his lip and clutched eagerly at the duvet as he hunkered down. “Jack, get your damn pants off and get in here already so I can ravish the _fuck_ out of you.”

Jack laughed at Mark's desperation and how closely it paralleled his own. He yanked his fly open and shoved his pants down his hips, revealing Christmas-present boxers, then toed off his socks before kicking them all aside and rushing toward the bed. He shoved beneath the duvet to press in close to Mark, spreading his cold fingers across Mark's bare chest. “Who said you're going to be doing the ravishing?”

“I can’t believe you’ve got a bow over your _dick,_ ” was Mark’s immediate response as he did his best not to just break down laughing. Mark yipped a bit from the application of cold fingers to his skin but he quickly wrapped Jack’s hands up in his own to fix the issue. Squeezing tight, Mark said no more until he’d taken a few precious seconds to gift Jack with a deep, sensual kiss.

Glasses were barely discarded before Jack was pressing his mouth to Mark’s again, breathing deeply through his nose and wrapping himself up in _Mark_. “I love you,” Jack whispered against Mark's lips. “I missed you. You're _here_!”

Mark breathed and scattered more quick kisses along Jack’s chin, jaw and cheeks while he whispered. “I love you. I’m here. I’m _here,_ Jack, and when I leave you’ll be coming with me. We’re not gonna be forced apart anymore. I love you, _I love you,_ I never wanna stop kissing you or holding you or fucking _loving_ you. Cold hands and stupid underwear and floofy green hair and all. Jack.” Mark let a dorky smile spread across his lips as he tangled their legs together. “Can I be the red to your green? Let’s make Christmas.”

“I thought of you when I saw these and _had_ to have them…” Jack breathed when Mark finally released his mouth again. “I love Christmas. Let's be Christmas all year round.”

Jack twisted his legs around Mark's, using the other man for leverage to press their bodies tightly together from knees to chests. He gasped softly as their dicks pressed against each other with hardly anything between them.

“Might as well, every day with you is basically Christmas. You’re the best present I could get.” Some of Mark’s cheekiness melted away with a soft gasp.

“Mark...Mark…” Jack whined Mark's name, his face red at how quickly he was falling apart...But it had been _months_ with nothing more than his own hands, and now he was overwhelmed with Mark. “Please fuck me, please…”

Mark groaned deep and low in his throat. “Jack… _fuck,_ Jack, how the hell am I supposed to tell you no when you talk like that? _Fuck._ How do you- should we, uh… ffff it’s so hard to think when you’re looking at me like that _stoppit._ ” It was Mark’s turn to whine as he squirmed against Jack. His hands released Jack’s in favor of sliding down his arms, his sides. Mark squeezed at Jack’s hips.

Mark's squirming did nothing to help Jack calm down. He looped his arms around Mark's back and rolled over, dragging Mark on top of him. “Like this,” he decided, bracing his feet against the bed so he could rock up against Mark's body. His hands skimmed down Mark's back, dragging nails lightly over his scarred skin, until he found the initials. Jack pressed one hand over each letter and spread his legs to give Mark space between them.

“This is how...whenever I'd...This is how I'd imagine you most.” Simple, vanilla missionary position, but it wasn't _boring_. Not with Mark. Never with Mark.

 _“Oh._ Not what I was expecting. But if this is what you want, I’m more than for it. Not all; _more._ Wanna give you more… wanna give you everything, Jack….” Mark bit hard at his lip.

Jack looked down at Mark between his legs, and saw the Christmas bow on his boxers twitch with his need. He laughed, wiggling his hips beneath Mark. “I hope you like your present…"

Mark huffed out a breathless laugh. “Guess I’d better get to opening it, huh?” He pushed himself onto hands and knees, sitting back to regain the use of his hands. They fell back to Jack’s hips so his thumbs could trace the waistband. Mark hummed his approval and dipped in to feel the skin underneath. “Hmm… dunno if I should just yet, though. I haven’t even had my Christmas dinner.” He leaned in to hover his face just above Jack’s chest; eyelids low and stare pointed. _“Or dessert.”_

 _“_ You know what I _want_ ,” Jack purred, rolling up against Mark pointedly. Mark's fingers were wandering, and Jack was _hoping_ Mark would actually unwrap his present today. If they could _both_...That would be an amazing next step and Christmas present all in one.

Even if Mark couldn't, just having him here, real, warm and hard above him, was driving Jack crazy. There would be time enough for more acrobatic fun later. The rest of their _lives_. Mark wasn't leaving Jack anytime in the foreseeable future. Jack pressed his hands against Mark’s scar possessively and arched his back to push his chest up for Mark. “If you haven't eaten yet, don't let me stop you! You must be _starving_ …”

“Coy doesn’t work when you so obviously want it too, doof. Just try not to nut before I _actually_ unwrap my present.” Mark pressed his mouth to Jack’s chest with a stifled giggle. “Not to nut, not to nut, that shouldn’t be so fun to say….” he mumbled.

Jack laughed at first, but his giggles became a sharp gasp and then a low chain of moans and soft whines as Mark licked and nipped and nibbled across his chest. Mark's hands were still _just_ inside his boxers, and his weight was pinning Jack to the bed. It didn't take long under those conditions to reduce Jack to a limp puddle of goo beneath Mark (limp everywhere except the most important place).

“Mark, Mark, Mark... _ahh!”_ Jack tensed and bucked beneath Mark as Mark bit sharply, sucking a hickey into his skin. Jack had forgotten just how _good_ it felt to wear Mark's bruises and he panted for breath, trying to suck in some air that Mark didn't immediately force out of his lungs with a little cry of pleasure. “ _Mark!_ ”

Mark sucked on the skin a second or two longer before releasing it from his teeth with a little snap. He lapped at the spot once or twice and pulled back. “What’s that? Marks? You want more Marks? All righty then!” His expression was devilish; deep brown eyes blown wide and clouded with lust as he stared up at Jack’s face. He dipped down to bite again, a little lower, and dragged his tongue back up to the hollow of Jack’s throat. Mark kissed the bobbing Adam’s apple as his hips started to roll. “Jack…”

“A-ass,” Jack gasped as Mark left bruises up his neck, unable to care enough to fight back. “I have to record tomorrow!”

He'd wear a hoodie. It would be fine. He could hide hickeys, had done it before.

Jack's token vocal protest was cut off by Mark's mouth, and he sought his revenge by kissing Mark for all that he was worth, dragging one hand up to Mark's red hair. He had done that. The red. _He_ had left a visible mark on Mark. Jack groaned into the kiss, thrusting up against Mark's erection.

Licking hungrily into Jack’s mouth, Mark whined. Not to be outdone, he released Jack’s hip to return the gesture. However, he didn’t just pet at Jack’s hair...

Jack gasped as Mark tugged his hair, breaking the kiss to cry out as he tipped his head back, his dick jumping again against Mark's. Mark was driving Jack crazy, and Jack was fast losing ways to fight back. He could spread his legs further, inviting Mark even closer into the cradle of his hips. He could spread his legs...and he could use his voice.

His voice was fraying and deep with arousal, and it was always Jack's greatest weapon. “Mark…” he gasped, struggling for breath. “Mark, God, I love you like this, between my legs, covering me in your marks. I love how you can kiss me, touch me, get me off. Love how you smell, and sound, and _feel_ , Mark, mm, you feel so good above me, beneath my fingers…” Jack slid his hand around Mark's neck and down to cover his chest. There was a hard nipple beneath his palm, and Jack circled his hand slowly over the nub. “I love you…”

“Jack….” Mark gave the hair in his fist a few more brief tugs before kneading gently at the scalp as if in apology for all the rough treatment. His hunger transferred back to eager kisses and licks along the stretch of Jack’s jaw line.

Mark’s face dipped lower to kiss at Jack’s ear and lingered so he could let loose a whisper of his own. “I love you. I never thought this would be my favorite place, just pressed up next to you, _over you._ I love the noises you make when I _bite._ ” Mark nipped at Jack’s ear lobe to emphasize with a low, husky growl. “Love seeing you covered in’em; reminding me of what we did. Wanna put my hands and mouth _all over you._ I don’t care what position we’re in just so long as I can touch and feel and _taste and- ahh-”_ Mark sucked in a breath and gave his body a full roll; into Jack’s fingers, into his groin. “Think I’m ready for that present now.”

Mark’s growls fizzed down Jack’s spine and settled in his groin. He shivered and whimpered as Mark bit his ear, sliding his fingers together to pinch and tug at Mark’s nipple. Mark was all Jack could think of, all he could see.

“Present?” Jack asked breathlessly, forgetting for a moment what he was still wearing. “ _Oh_! Oh, _this_ present?” He bucked off the bed again and squeezed his eyes shut as Mark bit him again. “Mm… you’re gonna have to open it yourself. I’m kinda tied up at the moment.” If you called one hand on Mark’s nipple and another tracing his scar ‘tied up.’ Jack did.

Mark whined and whimpered as Jack teased his nipple. His upper body squirmed, panting, giving Jack’s hair one more harsh tug before pulling away. “Ye- _hnnghn- yes,_ that present. Doof.” He dragged his tongue along the shell of Jack’s ear. “Of course _I’m_ gonna open it. It’s _my_ present. Don’t you know how Christmas works, you silly little Irishman?” Mark shook his head as if disappointed in Jack and pushed himself up onto his knees again. His skin was flushed; chest heaving and beads of sweat trickling down toned muscles as he watched Jack. Mark’s hair was a flurried mess of red and black.

Mark’s hands gripped at the waistband of Jack’s underwear and pulled. Jack sucked in a breath as Mark stripped him, his eyes going wide. Mark had never, _never_ gone for his pants before. _They_ always made him open their pants. Whenever Mark and Jack had gone this far, Jack had always been the one to remove his own clothes. The most Mark would do before was his shirt. But this… Mark had just whipped them off without even thinking, and Jack didn’t know if he should comment on it or…

Or just moan as Mark’s hands rubbed over his inner thighs, his legs pushing Jack open even further. He was completely exposed to his boyfriend like this, in the dim light filtering through the duvet. He was completely naked and Mark wasn’t on the other side of the world, watching through a screen. He was _here_ , his legs pressed up against Jack’s, his own dick stretching out the front of his underwear, his hands sliding higher and his gaze heavy between Jack’s legs. Jack bit his lip, hoping his blush wasn’t too bad (or at least didn’t show so much). He twitched his hands, grabbing for Mark, then for the sheet beneath him, not quite sure where to put them as Mark just _looked_ at him. “Maark?”

Mark watched Jack, spread out and aroused before him on the bed, for a few moments longer. Slowly, he leaned forward and down until his body was pressing against Jack’s. His lower half retained the same position between Jack’s legs but the rest of him lay flat. Chests, shoulders, hips and even their groins were touching.

Mark breathed, locating Jack’s hands. He twisted and fiddled until he could lock their fingers together. Burying his nose into Jack’s hair, Mark closed his eyes _._ He inhaled, then gave a shallow push with his hips. Just enough for them both to feel it. His words were more breath than sound but audible enough for Jack to hear due to Mark’s closeness. “I’ve seen it.” Another gentle twitch forward. “You showed me. On Skype; remember? I’ve seen it. I wanted.. wanted to know. Wanted to _see…_ ” Mark bit at the ridge of Jack’s ear. “...you.”

Jack closed his eyes, taking in the feel of a living Markiblanket. He squeezed Mark’s fingers laced through his and smiled at Mark’s soft words. He held himself still for Mark’s first push, but he let his hips roll along with his lover’s the second time. “I remember.”

He remembered what night Mark was talking about, when he’d tugged his boxers off  and positioned the camera so Mark could see _everything_. He’d touched himself for Mark, masturbated on camera with his face as red as Mark’s hair, but narrating a scene where it was _Mark_ touching him.

Jack could put on a show for Mark, even though he knew Mark couldn’t return the gift. He didn’t need to. Just putting his L.A. life aside for six months to be with Jack was gift enough. Now that he was _here_ , though, this wasn’t just a show. There wasn’t a screen between them, and Jack could no longer hide behind the safety of knowing Mark probably couldn’t be triggered by _Jack_. Now, with Mark physically here, the wrong touch, too much enthusiasm in the wrong way, the wrong word… any of it could trigger Mark. Jack wasn’t sure what he _could_ do. New experiences like this one always needed Mark to lead.

Mark had led before, plenty of times. With Jack’s coaxing, Mark could lead. Just because it had been weeks since they’d last tried something new _together_ didn’t mean Jack had completely forgotten what to do. He rubbed his thumbs over Mark’s knuckles and turned his head so he could kiss Mark’s cheek. “Like what you saw?” he asked quietly, a trace of a tease in his voice. He still didn’t understand _why_ Mark thought Jack was his equal in appearance, but he stopped doubting that Mark _did_ think it.

Mark bit at his lip and gave a little nod. “Love looking at you.” He released one of Jack’s hands so he could reach back down to where they were pressed at the hips. “Liked… seeing it, last time. On the video. Really liked.. watching you. How you thought I’d touch you. Wanted to…” He wiggled backwards a bit; just enough to squeeze his hand in between them.

Mark sucked in a breath as his fingers rubbed over his bulge first, and then he turned his wrist to dance fingertips along the underside of Jack’s dick. Mark pulled in another breath and gave Jack’s length a firmer, fuller stroke with his fingers. “Just.. l-let me….”

 _Hips still, hands together…_ Jack squeezed Mark’s hand as he fought to keep himself from moving. He had _excellent_ self-control, thank you very much. Having a god made flesh as your boyfriend and not being allowed to touch him taught Jack how to fight his urge to thrust up into those fingers. He dug the fingers of his free hand into the mattress beneath him and breathed out shakily, trying to make himself relax despite Mark’s ministrations.

“You’ve done this before,” he murmured. “In the bath. In your house. Remember?” Mark had touched Jack’s naked dick a couple of times. He just had never looked at it first. “You know how I like it. And hey.” Jack grinned, cracking his eyes open to look down at Mark. “No more bruises to make it ache in a not-fun way…”

“I’ve done this before.” Mark repeated the words in an almost identical fashion; quiet, low, gentle. He nodded again and offered up a faint smile of his own and the best suave tone he could muster. “Oh yeah. I don’t have to hold back this time. How did you like it again? Was it… this much?” Mark wrapped his fingers a bit more securely around Jack’s erection and squeezed.

Jack let his back arch as he moaned, trying to keep his hips still but letting the rest of his body show his pleasure. “Unh, _yes_ , that’s good, Mark, that’s…” Jack bit his lip to keep from asking for _faster_ , just looked down to meet Mark’s eyes again. “Talk to me?” he asked. Mark’s voice always pooled deep in the pit of his stomach and the tips of his fingers and down to his toes, especially that deep, husky rumble he had when he was _really_ turned on. From what Jack could feel against his leg, Mark was already to that point.

Mark squeezed again, and then he started to _move_ his hand. The strokes were short, quick and light but they existed all the same. Mark released Jack’s other hand to press his forearm into the bed. The leverage allowed him to pull up from Jack a little; hovering over Jack once more. Crimson bangs hung low across one of his eyes while his lips remained parted for breath.

“Touch me, Jack. Put your hands on me. Hold onto me, grip me, drag your nails a little if you have to. I can take it. I _want_ it. I told you I wanna feel you. I _do._ I wanna feel _all of you._ I wanna feel your hands on me. I want to see you toss your head back and make those faces I love so much. The ones that tell me I’m doing good. That you’re loving my hands on you; my body. I wanna watch you wiggle and resist bucking up into my hand. Wanna hear your voice shout my name and groan and beg me for more. You’re so fucking _hot,_ Jack, like this. Laid out beneath me on our bed with only _me_ to see you. With only _you_ to see _me._ No one else, Jack. I don’t wanna do this with or to anyone else; only _you._ ”

With Mark moving up and over him, Jack could reach for his body. He pressed his hands against Mark’s chest again, fingers finding a scar, but then he was soon sliding them around Mark’s back to hold on as Mark started to stroke him faster. He didn’t hold any noises back; as Mark touched him, Jack whined and moaned and whimpered Mark’s name. He dug his fingers into Mark’s back, forcing his hips down and into the mattress to keep them still even as he writhed beneath his boyfriend. His heels slipped over the mattress as he struggled, fingers flexing with every pull of Mark’s hand. “No one else,” Jack panted, relaxing his hold on Mark’s back to drag his nails down without hurting his lover. “No one else gets me like this. Just you, just you, I’m yours…”

“I’m yours.” Mark echoed. He panted; scouring Jack’s chest with more searing kisses and licks. His tongue tracked over a nipple and then went back to do it again. Mark nipped at a pectoral while the motions of his hand became more erratic. He grunted with a hint of irritation. “I’ve got an idea,” he rumbled low and rough.

Mark pulled back; stretching Jack’s hold on him but not breaking it. He put enough weight on his knees to free up his other hand. When he’d successfully balanced his body and wasn’t at risk of toppling over, Mark acted. His hand reached back to dip beneath Jack’s thigh and cupped the limb with a secure grip. He looked at Jack through his floof with that smolder that always made Jack moan and sunk his voice to the deepest octave he could reach. _“C’mere.”_ A tug and pull had Jack’s ass sliding up into Mark’s lap. Huffing shaky breaths with sweat dripping from his brow, Mark coaxed Jack’s leg into curling around his waist with his hand. In one smooth motion that made every muscle in his abdomen flex tantalizingly, Mark thrusted up against Jack and let his hand slide along Jack’s dick in the process. He gasped, “ _Fuck yes._ Better. So much betterohgod.”

“ _Oh god,_ ” Jack echoed, nearly swallowing his own tongue as he felt Mark’s dick there, _right there_ , pressing against his ass and Mark was _thrusting_ and Jack _wailed_ , tossing his head back, the muscles in his thighs straining to keep his hips from moving in response. There was only one thin  layer of cotton separating their bodies, and Jack was _aching_ for even that to be gone, for Mark to _actually_ fill him like he craved. “Mark, fuck, Mark... _fuck_ , please Mark, please, oh god…” Jack tightened his leg around Mark’s waist, not thrusting back, but pulling himself as tight as he could against Mark’s body. “Mark, I need, I need…!”

“Jack, Jack, Jack just _go,_ just _go Jack_ fucking- _move-_ move, push, roll I don’t even care what you do at this point just go, oh crap, _fuck,_ fuck you feel so good against me I can’t….” Mark was rock hard and throbbing where he slid between Jack’s cheeks, over and over. _“Jack, Jack, Jack_ ** _move._** _”_

Even with Mark’s permission, Jack still held himself still for another moment, trying to remember _how_ to move. He clung to Mark’s shoulders and tried to loosen his grip on his thighs, his hips. If he just… _flexed_ , like that, he could rock himself over Mark’s dick and _oh_ , do that again…

Slowly, Jack started finding his rhythm against Mark, rolling between Mark’s hand on his dick and Mark’s hardness thrusting up against his ass. If he angled his hips just right, he could _feel_ the head of Mark’s dick rubbing against his hole with every thrust. He pressed his cheek against the mattress as he ground back, as if he could somehow get Mark inside him like this, without any prep or even taking Mark’s underwear off. As if he could just _push hard enough_ and have Mark slip inside…  


“Mark…” Jack was still practically sobbing with every thrust, squeezing tightly over the thick muscles of Mark’s shoulders. “Mark, I want… I want…”

Mark heaved out a harsh gasp and released his hold on Jack’s dick. Abruptly, both of his hands dropped to Jack’s hips to force their sporadic grinding to a rough halt. Jack _did_ sob when Mark suddenly stopped moving, holding Jack still again and releasing his dick. With Mark’s strong hands keeping him in place, Jack let himself struggle against his boyfriend’s grip to no avail. Mark wouldn’t give him anything more until he was good and ready.

Panting, sweating and hazy-eyed, Mark did his best to keep his gaze focused on Jack’s face. “Jack… J-Jack, do you… are you saying…. Jack, do you want me to..” Mark bit his lip and completed his question in a breathy whisper. “...touch you _there?_ ”

 _Oh_ , oh yes, yes, Jack wanted Mark to touch him there. He remembered how it had felt in the bathtub, Mark’s finger rubbing against him, and he _knew_ how it felt with his own fingers. If his were that good… Jack’s gaze dropped to his hips, to Mark’s fingers digging into his skin. They were thicker than his: Mark had larger hands. Jack couldn’t help but lick his lips at the thought of Mark working those fingers _inside_ him. He nodded abruptly, then looked up to meet Mark’s eyes and nodded again. “I... _please._ If… if not, I can do it myself, and you can… you can watch. I just _need…_ ” Jack needed something inside him, even if it was his own fingers..

Fuck. He was _totally_ gay.

Mark stared down at Jack with a dissonance of emotions on his face. He shifted while he considered and immediately gave a soft, little moan. Mark bit at his lip. He rubbed soothing circles into Jack’s hip bones with his thumbs and then squeezed. A needy resolve had settled onto his face.

“...where do you keep your lube?”

Jack swallowed, feeling like he should borrow Mark’s breathing techniques. Was _Mark_ actually going to… or even if Jack did it to himself, he’d need the lube. And if Mark wanted to help, or watch, or just be there in between his legs and touching him elsewhere, any of that would be good.

“D-drawer,” he said, shakily freeing a hand and flopping it in the direction of the bedside table where he’d left their glasses. Outside of the duvet. Fuck. It was gonna be _cold_. But it would warm up fast. “And… and where are my boxers?”

“Okay.” Mark took as deep a breath as he could muster. “Okay… uh. Jack.” He’d started to move, but Jack’s thighs and shins were wrapped around his waist like a vice. Mark shimmied a little with heated cheeks as he reached for the discarded boxers instead. “You’re gonna have to, uh… let go. Like just for a minute- or longer. I don’t… even know if I could reach your butt, like this. Sorry. Here’s your boxers.” Mark dropped them directly over Jack’s dick with a hint of cheekiness to his smile.

Jack huffed a breathless laugh, giving a squeeze with his legs before stretching out his stiffening legs. _Move and you’ll get what you want._ “Sorry, sorry. You know I love having you between my legs…”

As Mark moved to get the lube, Jack sagged back against the mattress and closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. Without Mark _right there_ , he was falling away from the edge a bit, able to collect himself and calm down a little. He still _needed_ , but… if he turned his head and opened his eyes, he could watch Mark’s butt wiggling in just his boxers as he rummaged through the drawer.

Mark huffed with irritation. “Lube, lube, lube, lube c’mon where’s the- huh.”

“Can I wolf-whistle?” Jack wondered aloud, reaching over to poke the Markibooty with one finger. “Cause boy, you be _fiiiiine…_ ”

“Found i-” Mark made a startled sound when his butt was poked and quickly ducked back into the warmth of the duvet. The bottle of lube was gripped securely in his fist though his next words came out sounding a little funny due to the condom hanging by its foil corner from his teeth. “I’d say to keep it in your pants, but, well.” He chuckled a bit and let the condom drop into his free hand. “Did you buy these for me, or…? ‘Cause I’m gonna tell you they’re too small. Sorry.”

“Nah, they’re fine. Irish sizing, see. Runs larger than you pencil-dicked Americans are used to…” Jack stuck out his tongue at Mark, then slid his hands down his chest and hips, giving a little shimmy for Mark. He’d left the boxers where Mark had dropped them, the Christmas bow sticking up obscenely. “They’re...kinda old, but they should fit you.”

Mark wasn’t _that_ much bigger than Jack, and the condoms were some of the last remnants of Jack’s last relationship with Signe. He’d kept them around, never bothering to get rid of them, because surely a year-old condom was better than no condom at all. If he and Mark were _actually_ gonna have sex, though, he should probably get some new ones.

“Pencil-di- _excuse you,_ good sir. I take offense to that on behalf of _all_ well-endowed American men! It’s _this_ ‘pencil-dick’ you want up your butt, mister. Don’t forget that.” Mark huffed. He licked at his lips and set the questionable condom aside for now. “Good to know. Probably won’t get that far- I was mainly just being cheeky, but… hey. If we do, at least I won’t have to leave the comforter again. It’s _cold_ out there. See?” Mark grinned and shoved his hand under Jack’s lumpy boxers to squeeze at the underside of his thigh; just above the bottom of his ass cheek. The thumb on his other hand popped the cap of the lube bottle. “Bet this shit’s cold too. Boy that sucks for you huh?”

“I want the pencil-dick because it’s _your_ dick, Mark, not because it’s some girthy monstrosity of masculini- _TY!_ ” Jack’s voice skyrocketed in a squeal as Mark shoved his hand beneath Jack’s leg, his cold fingers shocking Jack’s system. “Jesus _fuck_ , is the furnace even _working_!?” Or was it just because under the duvet was toasty warm with their combined body heat?

“‘Girthy monstrosity of masculinity’? That sounds _terrifying._ Or like some kind of sex toy ad… huhuhuh….” Mark giggled a bit to himself as he mumbled the last part. Or maybe he was laughing at Jack. His grin stuck. “Well, _my_ furnace sure is… and yours, from the feel of it.”

Jack reached for Mark’s hands, catching them between his and rubbing gently, even with the lube bottle in the way. “Hey now, there’s no need to be cold, Mark. I’m trying to be warm and inviting here…”

Mark’s face fell. “Oh my _god._ That’s it. You’re not allowed to talk to Wade anymore. Clearly, he’s had a negative influence on your sense of humor. Please don’t kill my boner, Jack.”

“Aww, did it hurt your boner? I could kiss it better for you…” Jack pulled Mark’s hands close to his face so he could press a kiss to every fingertip. He looked up over their clasped hands at Mark, blue eyes earnest. “If you wanted me to…”

It was no secret that Jack had been eager for Mark inside him in _any_ way over the past months. If Jack wasn’t begging for Mark to fuck him, he wanted to suck Mark off. Jack had no idea where all of this need came from, but apparently being without Mark for several months hadn’t made it fade, it had merely buried it. Mark returning to Ireland kicked all the dirt off and brought Jack’s desires back to life with a vengeance.

Mark gently pulled his hands from Jack’s clinging grasp to coat the fingers of one with lube. He swallowed hard. “Tempting as that sounds… I thought you wanted me to touch you down _there._ ”

Jack tried not to pout as Mark pulled away. So he wasn’t going to get his mouth on Mark’s dick today. That was okay. Mark was settling down again, slicking fingers up and spreading Jack’s legs again. Jack gasped as those fingers brushed over his balls and let his legs open even further, inviting Mark back.

“Down _here…_ ”

Playfulness was quickly melting away beneath the heat of Jack’s need. Mark’s finger found Jack’s hole and Jack took a deep breath, bracing himself. _Don’t push back, don’t push back…_

And then Mark’s finger was slipping inside, and Mark was _inside Jack_ and Jack couldn’t breathe and felt a bit like he was going to cry. His head fell back and his body quivered as he fought the urge to push down and take Mark’s finger fully. “ _Fuck…_ ”

 _Breathe, just breathe…_ Jack groped for Mark’s other hand, squeezing his eyes shut and biting his lip. Mark was going to need encouragement. If Jack cried because it felt so _good_ , Mark was going to panic and think he was hurting Jack. He’d stop. He’d _stop,_ and Jack _knew_ he’d cry if Mark stopped now.

“Fuck….” Unlike Jack, Mark whispered the word with a sort of stunned awe.

“Mark, Mark, feels good, so good, better than mine, cause it’s not mine, it’s _you,_ it’s you I love you fuck, Mark, fuck, please, please, _more…_!” Jack forced his eyes open as he babbled, fixing his lover with a pleading stare. “More, deeper, harder, faster, _please_ Mark, please give me _more_ …!”

Mark tentatively pushed the digit all the way in to his knuckle. Quietly, he pushed Jack’s leg further back so Jack could touch Mark’s fingers. He started wiggling and lightly twisting the finger inside Jack. “Jack… Jack… l-look so good, you look _amazing_ like this. So much better than on a screen. Love you, love you so much I'm…”

“Mark…” Jack clasped his hand around Mark’s on his leg, squeezing lightly. Touching Mark helped ground Jack as he panted, squirming around the finger pressed inside him, filling him. Mark was watching him with awe in his eyes but apprehension lingering in the corners of his mouth, the creases across his forehead. Jack stared at him for a minute before he squeezed again, but this time he clenched down on Mark’s finger inside him as well as the ones he was holding. Mark gave a little gasp and glanced to where his hand was tucked beneath the discarded boxers.

“I promise, I promise, if it stops being good, the _moment_ it stops being good for me, I'll tell you…” It was hard to form coherent sentences, but Jack forced this one out, knowing Mark’s terrors. “I know what I can...what I can take. I know. And I trust you. And I...I... _Mark…_ ” Jack trailed off with a whine as he shifted, trying to subtly flex his hips without pushing back too much. _Move…!_

“Jack…. I wanna do this for you. I wanna do it so badly I'm just nervous and it's- it's weird, for me. I don't get it and I don't think I can, right now, but I'm gonna try doing it. For you. I…” Mark shook his head even as he started moving his finger, in and out, of Jack. He paused his words to take a few more breaths in some effort to steady himself. All the while, Mark watched Jack’s face. “Jack. Jack I… I think I know a better way to do this, f-for me, but… I'm gonna have to take my finger out. And move you. I.. do you...is that okay?”

“Mark, _ah_!” Jack's reassurances were cut off as Mark started actually moving his finger, so much _different_ from how Jack would do it. The angle was off (better), the pace was off (slower, more teasing), the _size_ was off (thicker, fuller). He bit his lip and _rolled_ , meeting Mark's thrusts with a press of his hips.

“Whatever...whatever _you_ need.” Jack squeezed his fingers over Mark's again and tried to smile. It wobbled more than he'd like, but considering Mark was already driving him mad with just one finger, it was better than he expected. “Mark, whatever makes this good for you too…”

Mark returned the smile. “ _Okay.”_ He took a breath. “Okay. Just- bear with me, a minute. This is gonna be some maneuvering but I promise it'll be good. I'll go right back to doing this, _I will._ Don't worry about anything just let me move you.” It was Mark’s turn to babble as he slid his finger out of Jack. He hastily wiped his fingers off on Jack’s boxers and then awkwardly got out from between Jack’s legs. Doing his best not to dislodge the duvet and send them both into frigid temperatures, Mark plopped down next to Jack’s head with his back leaned against the bed frame. After a moment’s consideration he piled a few pillows behind him.

“Okay, here we go, just gotta… flip you around….”

Jack clutched at the duvet for Mark, keeping it in place as he was manhandled into position. He tried to stay pliant to let Mark move him where he wanted, even as his body screamed at the lack of contact. His boxers fell beside them, but Jack didn't really care. They'd already served their purpose twice now, both to make Mark laugh and to give him something to wipe his fingers on.

Leaning forward to dip his arms beneath Jack, Mark gently but firmly twisted Jack around on the bed, ignoring the once more dislodged boxers, and then shifted his hands to Jack’s hips. “Ready? _Hup._ ” With a grunt and heave Mark dragged Jack up to sit, then into his lap. Mark was still on his knees and Jack’s naturally folded in on either side. A heady moan escaped as Mark pulled Jack into his lap, his dick pushing against the bulge in Mark's boxers. Biting at his lip, Mark leaned back and brought Jack with him. Still gripping at a hip with one hand, Mark brought up the other to cup Jack’s chin with his fingers. “ _I love you._ Thank you for letting me take this at my own pace; how it's comfortable for _me._ I'm gonna make you feel good, no matter what. I promise. Kiss me?”

Jack couldn't resist a little shimmy and a smirk from beneath his lashes, rubbing their erections together. “You always make me feel good,” Jack assured Mark. He pressed his lips to Mark's jawline, then under his ear, then down to catch his lips again, settling against his boyfriend's chest. He was naked. Naked and sitting in Markiplier's lap, and if he had known this would have happened five years ago...he probably would have exploded from embarrassment. Now, Jack was hoping to explode in a completely different way. He rolled his body against Mark's again, curling his toes and flexing his legs. “Love you…”

 _“Ohfuck-”_ Mark moaned, low and sultry, mumbling about Jack being a little shit under his breath. “You too… You too Ja- _mnnn…_ ” Jack cut-off his voice and swallowed him up with lips and tongue. Mark groaned and whimpered as Jack rolled again. His hands dropped to squeeze and grope at Jack’s ass with a happy hum. “Love you so much. Gonna take care of you.” He kissed the corner of Jack’s mouth. “Gonna make you feel _amazing._ Give you what you want until we get all sticky up here.” He chuckled a bit at his own words.

Grasping for the lube again, Mark squeezed a fresh amount onto his fingers. His free hand kept a firm, possessive grip on Jack’s ass. Then he was curving his hand to dip back between Jack’s cheeks; the other pulling them slightly apart. He let his fingertip rub teasingly over Jack’s hole for a second before pushing straight in. Mark tried to pick up where he'd left off. In and out; fingering Jack’s ass like it was nothing. Hesitantly, Mark bumped a second finger at the tight ring of muscle. “You.. you gotta tell me what you're ready for- what you need, okay?? And… and you can move. It's okay. I want… god, I’d really love if you rolled your hips again for me….”

Jack certainly wasn't complaining about Mark's attention. He moaned and wiggled on top of his lover, trying to keep from moving _too_ much. He didn't want to set Mark off. He panted openly, tipping his head to the side to let Mark attack his neck again.

“I, mm, I can...another. Just...be slow. Need to adjust to two…” Even thicker than his, just one of Mark's fingers was hardly difficult to take. Two was when things started to get difficult, when it could start to hurt if Jack wasn't careful. He smiled, ducking his head to kiss at Mark's lips. “If you can...get it in, then hold still, and I'll move at first.”

Mark huffed and let his forehead rest against Jack’s shoulder. “So tight…. Think I need more lube. How do you make it look so easy??” He grudgingly released Jack’s ass to grab up the bottle again. He just squeezed some directly down into Jack's spread crack; tracing his collar bone with kisses.

“Okay… okay, here we go…. I think it's going in… _fuck…_ it’s like your ass is trying to swallow my fingers, Jack. What the hell…” Mark gasped, awed, as his middle finger slid in to join the first. He immediately halted his movements. Panting heavily, Mark waited for Jack to move. He nibbled at his lover’s reddened chest in the meantime; tongue laving teasingly over hardened nipples.

“Practice,” Jack gasped, sagging against Mark's shoulder with a hearty groan as Mark managed to ease a second finger inside. He panted wetly against Mark's skin, taking a moment to adjust. “Lots and lots of practice, more practice than I've shown you...but mm, much nicer to be _held_ at the same time…”

Mark was nudging him back, though, nipping and sucking at Jack's chest, flicking his tongue across his nipples, and Jack couldn't stay still for long. Little cries were punched out of his mouth with every caress of Mark's tongue, and soon Jack was rocking against Mark's fingers. He moved slowly at first, flexing his thighs to lift himself up and push forward against Mark's bulge, then back, over and over, each roll of his hips easier and faster than the last.

“Ha, see? I'm a genius. Just admit it.” Mark grinned up at Jack, but it was soon lost to several low moans.

“Okay, okay…” Jack was still clutching at Mark's shoulders, alternating between his mouth hanging open for air and biting at his lips. “You can...You can start moving again…” He gave another roll against Mark's bulge, groaning. If it weren't for this, it was almost like Mark was actually fucking him...and Mark had more fingers still…

Mark patiently waited for Jack’s go-ahead before sinking his teeth deep into the meat of Jack’s shoulder. He clenched his jaw to leave more of a bite mark than a hickey while his fingers went to work.

Having let go of Jack’s shoulder with another soothing lick, Mark crooked his fingers. Mark tried it a few times on his thrusts in; twisting his wrist a few degrees between entries. He wiggled his digits to scissor at Jack’s tight inner walls and then curled his fingers again. His other hand was clutching at Jack’s hip in a bruising grip. “I have… no idea… what I'm looking for. Or where. _Jack._ ” There was a hint of a whine in his throat.

Even without finding his prostate, every exploratory twist and wiggle of Mark's fingers drew new flavors of soft moans and whimpers from Jack. He dug his nails in and nuzzled at Mark's hair.

“It's, it's, _ah_ , forward, like do a ‘come here’ with your fingers and up more…” Jack couldn't give Mark any more specific directions. His prostate liked to hide from him unless he got the angle of his wrist _just_ _right_. Mark would probably have better luck than Jack. He hoped so. “You'll...You'll know when you find it…”

“Okay… so I gotta ‘come hither’ your prostate. I'd say that's an innuendo but it's literally just sex…” Mark tipped his head up to whisper sultrily into Jack’s ear; grinning. “...and I'm already _in-your-endo._ Huhuhuh.”

Mark giggled and kissed affectionately at Jack’s ear. Then he pressed his body closer to Jack as if it would help drive his fingers deeper. He had a pensive, serious look on his face. He bit at his lip and gestured as Jack suggested. Jack moaned softly, but it wasn’t quite right. Grunting, Mark dug further; knuckles almost sinking in with his fingers while he curled them as much as Jack’s muscles would allow. He pressed with his two fingertips and then jolted as Jack wailed.

Jack clenched around Mark, inside and out, clinging hard as Mark’s fingers brushed against his prostate. “ _Oh god!_ ” He stared at Mark--it had never felt like _that_ before--and shoved down hard against Mark’s fingers. “There, _there_ , right there, do that again Mark, please, fuck, fuck me _please_ Mark…” He rocked his hips, trying to drive Mark’s fingers back, to press them against that hidden spot that made him see stars. “ _Maaark!_ ”

Mark sputtered as Jack drove himself down on his fingers with a purpose. Mark crooked his fingers again and pressed _hard._ He stared with eyes slightly wide and mouth agape.

Jack wanted to kiss Mark. He _wanted_ to, but he knew if he tried to direct Mark’s head into a kiss, he’d clutch harder than Mark was probably okay with, possibly pulling at his hair, and Jack didn’t _dare_ do that. Not when Mark was making him feel so good. (Even if Mark wasn’t, Jack wouldn’t want to do that.) He fucked himself against Mark’s fingers as hard as he could manage, pressing his mouth to every inch of Mark’s skin he could reach in sloppy, wet kisses. “Mark, _unh,_ so good… can take more… please Mark, please…” He did manage to drag a hand away from Mark’s shoulder and down, dropping it to one of Mark’s hard nipples to pull and tease, trying to repay Mark for even _some_ of the pleasure his boyfriend was giving him.

Mark’s back arched automatically into Jack’s fingers. Dragging nails harshly down the slope of Jack’s thigh, he rammed his fingers in a bit harder on Jack’s next push. “K-keep touching me like that, and… you won’t have to ask twice….” Mark groaned; letting his head fall back against the bed frame and exposing his neck for Jack.

Mark groped blindly for the lube again. Finding it, he squeezed some more down onto Jack’s ass and his fingers; liberally coating it all. Squeezing his ring finger in alongside the other two, Mark began the process of wiggling it _inside_ Jack. Stretching him wider with every thrust of his fingers while they continued brushing against his prostate, over and over. His other hand returned to Jack’s ass cheek with a generous squeeze. “...s-so tight… too tight, Jack, dunno if I can… god….”

Coherency was beyond Jack’s grasp now. He babbled wordlessly against Mark’s throat, not even slowing down as Mark worked a third finger in. Mark felt _so_ much better than his own hand, getting the angle right, the _depth_ … Jack lapped at Mark’s skin and scars, rolling the nipple between his fingers as he rocked between Mark’s fingers and his bulge. His own dick was rock hard against Mark’s stomach, leaking more precum with every thrust of Mark’s hand.

Mark kept fucking Jack with his fingers. He’d gotten a rhythm down now and could thrust the digits in tandem with Jack’s rolling hips. It let him strike deep and hard; fingers curling and stretching as if they _were_ still preparing Jack for more. Mark bucked up with his hips; once, twice, driving his hidden erection up past Jack’s balls and along the underside of his leaking dick. He released Jack’s ass and gripped at Jack’s cock instead; squeezing and roughly fisting it. He kissed tenderly at the side of Jack’s head and wetted his lips. “C’mon, Sean. C’mon. You can do it. It’s okay. You can do it, Sean, I’m right here. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Jack _did_ spasm in Mark’s arms as Mark’s dick pressed up against his balls and Mark’s hand closed around his own erection. He gasped most of Mark’s name, driving harder into Mark’s hand. Mark’s words were barely registering in the back of his mind, and Jack pressed his mouth against Mark’s shoulder, biting into the muscle as he let himself go, shoving back on Mark’s fingers one more time and then into the circle of his hand. His cry of pleasure was mixed with a sob and muffled against Mark’s skin as he came _hard_ , his cum splattering across Mark’s delicious stomach.

“ _Hngh,_ oh fuck…” Mark’s fingers stilled in Jack but stayed inside him until his body fell limp and heavy against Mark’s chest. Only then did he let them slide out with a lewd squelching sound.

Jack grinned up at Mark, his eyes heavy. He was barely managing to keep up with Mark’s breathing, their chests rising and falling in tandem. _I love you,_ he mouthed, forgetting he needed to actually _speak_ the words.

Mark wiggled his other hand out from between their pressed bodies and quickly located Jack’s boxers again to wipe off his hands. He kissed at Jack’s hair, hands gliding up and down the curve of Jack’s back “Jack… Jack, I love you, you were so amazing…. I.. kind of need you off, though. I’m… please?”

Mark’s fingers kept skimming over the tattoo on Jack’s back, and while it wasn’t _actually_ more sensitive than the rest of his skin, just the knowledge of where Mark was touching made his nerves fizz happily. Jack mouthed a few more kisses over Mark’s shoulder, licking at the bite he had given the other man. It took him a minute to put Mark’s sounds together into words that made sense. _Off_. Oh.

With a grunt, Jack pushed with one arm and flopped over to the side, sprawling beside Mark. He was still largely boneless, but he dropped one arm across Mark’s sticky belly, his head finding a pillow on one of Mark’s pecs. “Yer gorgeous,” he managed to murmur, looking down at the bulge in Mark’s boxers.

 _“Jack…_ Jack, you’re sex-drunk.” Mark glanced between Jack’s eyes and where they were obviously looking several times. He squirmed a little.

“‘M Irish,” Jack slurred, rubbing his cheek against Mark’s chest. “Can’ ge’ drunk…” That was a lie, and he giggled at it as if it were a funny joke.

“Bullshit.” Mark called him on the lie but there was no heat to it. Turning his head, Mark buried his face in Jack’s hair and pressed the heel of his palm to his bulge. He whined; high pitched from the back of his nose. “ _Jack.._ Jack… please….”

Mark was saying Jack’s name, so Jack lifted his hand and reached for Mark’s. He pressed his fingers against Mark’s crooked knuckles, rubbing gently before slipping between Mark’s fingers to press against the bulge in his boxers. He’d done this before, touched Mark’s dick. He wished he could touch it without the boxers in the way again. He wanted to feel his boyfriend, learn the differences between their bodies, see what made _Mark_ squirm and cry and fall apart in his hands. But he could wait. He could wait for Mark, because Mark was worth it.

“Feel good?” Jack asked, pushing his fingers up and down Mark’s shaft, just an inch, small, shallow little rubs. “Wan’ me t’do this?”

Mark gasped, quick and shallow against Jack’s hair. His hand twitched, and then his hips. He gave a full body shudder instead while his hips started popping up against Jack’s hand. He whimpered and rolled; sticky abdomen flexing with the motion as his toes curled further down the bed. Mark bit at his lip, nodded, then shook his head. Fumbling, he grabbed shakily at Jack’s wrist. “M- _mnn,_ here… h-here….” Mark’s breathy _“please”_ was inaudible against Jack’s hair as he manually directed Jack’s hand to his waistband. His free hand sunk its fingers into the sheets and clutched at them without mercy. _“Jack….”_

Jack giggled, worming his hand beneath Mark’s boxers. His fingers scratched lightly through Mark’s pubes, questing deeper to find the base of his erection. He wrapped his hand around it one finger at a time, slowly stroking up to the head. Mark had always taken his time feeling out Jack’s dick. It was only fair if Jack got to repay the favor.

 _“Ah, ah, f- fu… Jack….”_ Mark’s voice had lost all of its deep and sultry qualities. He’d become as desperate and eager as Jack was just a few minutes ago.

Mark’s dick was familiar like Mark himself, a little thicker than Jack, maybe a little longer (maybe), but just as warm and hard beneath his fingers. Jack pressed his fingertips against the throbbing vein, then traced over the flare of his head and up to rub over his slit, sticky with precum. Jack closed his eyes, touching the tip of his tongue to the center of his lips, imagining touching it to Mark’s dick, _tasting_ the liquid beading there.

His hips rose with that first slow stroke at the exact same pace. Mark’s back arched while his mouth dropped open with a silent cry; brown eyes wide. He didn’t hesitate to buck his hips. He rolled them up to slide his dick through Jack’s hand; movements feverish. His hands scrabbled at the bed briefly before locating Jack beside him still. They instantly gripped wherever they landed first; Jack’s arm, his upper side. Mark clutched at Jack and tipped sideways to burrow into his skin.

There was an edge to Mark’s whine that spoke to the back of Jack’s brain, the bit of his mind always hyper-conscious of Mark’s anxiety. Between the whine and the clutching, Mark burrowing into his chest, more and more of Jack’s rationality was creeping forward. As Mark tucked against him, Jack wrapped his free arm around his boyfriend’s back and lifted his chin over Mark’s hair.

“I gotcha, I gotcha,” Jack murmured, holding Mark safely as he kept sliding his hand over Mark’s cock. “I gotcha, Mark, I’m here. I’m here. I love you. I’m here. It’s just me. Just me and you and _our_ bed in _our_ room in _our_ house…” Jack pressed his hand over the scar on Mark’s back as he picked up his pace in Mark’s boxers, stroking him a little harder. “It’s okay. It’s all good. I’m right here. Enjoy this, Mark. _Enjoy_ your body…”

Mark shuddered out a sigh and muffled a whimper into Jack’s shoulder as his hip movement became more sporadic. He panted, hot and wet, over Jack’s skin alongside a low vibration of moans whenever Jack would stroke _just right._ Fingernails digging into Jack, Mark thrust up into his hand with a growing reckless abandon. “Jack, Jack, Jack, _Jack please,_ please, I can’t, ‘m so close, ‘m gonna.. gonna.. _fuck,_ harder, please… faster…!”

Mark had done everything Jack wanted, so there was no question that Jack would jerk his hand faster, tugging at Mark’s dick and trying to make Mark moan with _every_ pull. “Beautiful, you’re so beautiful like this, Mark, so beautiful in my arms, crying my name. I love you, god, I love you so much. I want you to come apart, come apart for me, Mark, let me catch you…”

 _“Jack!”_ Mark didn’t wail like Jack had, but he was close to it. With a few more heady murmurs of Jack’s name, including a slip or two of his real one, Mark rolled up into his orgasm. He muffled his sob with Jack’s skin; biting into his shoulder to mimic Jack’s earlier reflex, but he bit harder. Mark barely stopped himself from going overboard and likely drawing blood. Instead, he dug in his fingernails and let Jack stroke him through his orgasm with every jerk of his hips. His chest heaved, his shoulders shook and his toes curled hard enough to crack before he was slumping against Jack with all the coordination of a newborn giraffe.

Jack huffed softly against Mark’s hair, not laughing, not really, just _joyful_. He stroked Mark until his spasms stopped, and then he uncurled his hand before Mark got too overstimulated. Mark was breathing against his skin, heavy and loose, and Jack felt like he were floating on clouds. Mark was in his arms again.

“I love you,” Jack whispered, smoothing his hand over Mark’s thigh inside his boxers. “So, _so_ much. I missed you. But you’re home now. You’re _home_.”

Mark shivered and relaxed further with a little sigh until he was practically laying on top of Jack instead of the other way around. He nuzzled into the bruises he’d scattered across Jack’s collar bone with eyes still closed. “Love you… love you a lot… love you more than _all the things,_ Jack. Even space. Love you more’an space and video games and vlogging and Ch… okay, not Chica, but all the other things. Love you. Missed you. Missed home…” When Mark smiled, it was without a trace of force or anxiety. “I’m home….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, on that happy note, Kintsugi is wrapped up!
> 
> This has been... a long time coming. I first put out my request for a co-author on August 22, 2016. WrittenFIRES has been an absolute joy and delight to write with, with our evils perfectly complementing each other. I think it's obvious to say that Kintsugi would never have happened without her. And Eltrkbarbarella...words cannot begin to describe the amount of influence this fantastic author and artist has had on our story, both with her illustrations and her constant support and cheer (and it's her fault I started writing it in the first place, since I told her about the hints of Kintsugi and said it was too horrible to write and she said DOOOOO ITTTTTT).
> 
> To each and every one of you who read through the whole thing... thank you. To all of you who gave us kudos, thank you. To all of you who left comments: we love you. We hope this ending was the happy ending we promised all the way back in the warning that made up chapter one.
> 
> And so now, after sixty-six chapters of this horrific universe, I'm sure you're all ready to be done with it, right?
> 
> ...
> 
> ...no?
> 
> Well...drat. That's a problem, you see, because writtenFIRES and I are both done with writing it. However...maybe...since you've been so wonderful and generous with your comments and kudos and views...
> 
> Consider these "Behind the Scenes." They are unpolished and unfinished snippets. Some of the snippets themselves aren't finished. They will never be polished or finished...but maybe they'll let you see what a mess our minds were during the creation of this world.
> 
> Each of the following links will take you to a different Google Document. You should be able to view and leave comments (please leave comments! You can leave comments on specific sections, even!), but you won't be able to make any changes. We have left these exactly as we wrote them, so you'll get to see our comments, our bad formatting, our mistakes...and our ideas. So, without further ado, here are over 500 more pages inspired by Kintsugi.
> 
> [Canon Kintsugi Scenes that did not make the final cut](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1j6_WHl4L-3KsRJjrGvGK6UL_GeHJMpLIhfAEpRYamt4/edit?usp=sharing)
> 
> [Non-Canon Kintsugi Scenes in which the story spun off in an interesting direction](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1BHr_aalsF4L8TJxFjYm8BrIWs2iAeuZ6_L_vFYDnE6I/edit?usp=sharing)
> 
> [Horror AU Scenes in which the Ship Sinker did things differently](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1M7vwKyHGo_izWBU6NofpLL58jW7zxymM1U3yFIuuEww/edit?usp=sharing)
> 
> [Not-Horror AU Scenes inspired by/roughly sort of kind of set in the Kintsugi verse](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1cnmtn7BQweCPPeITEKXcSSNeFPH6qol4Wyg83TNLQ0Q/edit?usp=sharing)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [memories in the dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11941839) by [sepiapages](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepiapages/pseuds/sepiapages)
  * [all dolled up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14025309) by [sepiapages](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepiapages/pseuds/sepiapages)




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